Environ Quatre
by reisaikage
Summary: Teatime follows Susan back to the Gaiter's Hogswatch morning, but Death does not accompany her. TeatimexSusan. Alternate Events.
1. One O' Clock

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their copyright holders.

Watching grandfather fly off she felt a twinge of regret. She often forgot in haste to shed her immortal coil that her abhorred eccentricities included more then absurd outings and unruly follicles. That her ties to her unfavored traits were familial in nature. On second thought she may make it out to granddad's after all. What was one fried pudding one day of the year? She might not have to be entirely dead to survive Albert's HogsWatch dinners. And if that was the case then she supposed there was no more proper a place to go.

Susan brought her fingers up to her scalp, nursing the throbbing egg she attained during her mad dash from the auditors. It wasn't everyday she went cliff jumping on Hogback. She also made to fix her hair back into something she was comfortable with the Gaiters seeing. With all the fortune her inherited mop had brought her Gawain would take it as an example to never again brush his hair or allow it be cut. The bump was a great deal easier to probe under the lessened volume of her bun as well.

The governess too to removing her coat, exposing a sleeve and bringing to mind the earlier tear she'd suffered earlier. For a moment her thoughts jumped from the practical to impartial as she remembered the cause of the rip. The cloth giving way sending a man plummeting to his death. The brief damning events that led up to that. Having stolen her weapon, backing her into a room, and running her through with it; before it took a dive off the landing shortly prior to Mr. Te-a-ti-me. She'd have to go by the University that evening to retrieve the sword she noted rubbing her left shoulder.

After what had to have been the most eventful sunrise she had ever bothered with, Susan would have liked nothing better then to see herself to bed. But Hogswatch being what it was meant the children would be up twice as early, to make twice as much noise, and cause twice as much devastation; all in the holiday spirit of course. And hadn't that been what she'd just spent hours to ensure? So Susan would have to settle on, several, cups of strong tea. She figured it all might be worth it to watch Twyla and Gawain unwrap her grandfather's attempt at a HogsWatch.

Almost smiling at the thought she realized she hadn't taken the time to fully appreciate the image of grandfather dressed in red robes, false beard, with a pillow shoved up his coat. It was within this rare moment of humored silliness Susan missed the almost imperceptible blur of black, blond and steel stepping in through the window.

* * *

It had given him quite a start falling to his death from the landing in the Tooth Fairy's Castle. He had expected more snapping cartilage with breaking bones, and less landing face first into a ham. He recognized the Unseen University from the amount of wizards standing around when he awoke. Jonathan remembered being in the middle of a rather lucrative contract. The simple hit on the Hogfather had brought him approved

membership to The Assassins Guild, control of all the children residing on The Disc, and the opportunity to kill not one anthropomorphic personification, but _three. _Tooth Fairy, Hogfather, and Death respectively. Or was it four? Would Susan have counted?

As he stepped out into the street he noticed the sun coming up over the rooftops. All his work dashed. But he did have one keepsake from the night. He brought it up to his face turning the blade flat to frame his reflection.

It had been quite an _elegant _undertaking too. He had taken all variables into account, and all the variables had barely put up a struggle. Usually there was also more of a tissue_y _mess with a stain. But for some reason this time all his victims disappeared without a discernible trace. How courteous of them! Sir Gorge's dog had left QUITE the stain. Both the one on the ceiling where he'd been nailed, and the one he'd dripped down all over the carpet.

The Guild would certainly be pleased with the clean, corpse free operation. And there was no need to dwell on all that when his original plan to simply inhume The Tooth Fairy presented him with complete control over the beliefs of the Disc's children. It practically held over the reigns toThe Disc. What were contracts and chump change then? Of course there were those susceptible little kiddie winks. He'd always had an affinity for them, and they'd always taken a shine to him now hadn't they?

He hadn't accounted, sadly, for the incompetence of his friends. They weren't seeing things his way either. The wizard couldn't work magic, the locksmith couldn't work locks, the vandals couldn't do away with the intruders, and his Banjo wouldn't do as it was told. He hadn't been at all happy with his friend's progress when the third big surprise of the night arrived. The sneaky footsteps coming round the stairs. Far too silent for his friends. Death's own sword had fallen right into his lap.

He'd never met Death before, which was surprising given his chosen profession. Teatime had heard of his Granddaughter however. Death having offspring had always intrigued him. How had it been done? All accounts known to him of The Reaper dictated bare bones. Ms. Sto Helit was most definitely made of flesh. Soft, milky white flesh. He wondered what would happen when he cut into it. Would she bleed if he used one of his own daggers, or must he use the sword? Was Death vulnerable to his own weapon? Would Death himself be arriving soon? He was rather excited about the fun he would have coming into all those answers himself once the contract was complete.

It really had been Hogswatch. Jonathan hadn't received this many gifts since he was boy!

He moved his new guest back into the locked room. Mr. Sydney was even making progress with the door, which was excellent considering he'd already had to dispose of one locksmith.

How unfortunate that it was at that time everything had gone irrevocably awry.

Teatime realized the castle itself was misbehaving early on in the night, more then just moving around locks and stealing away corpses. He'd known the place was doing something wrong, and he would have corrected it sooner had he known how to inhume a place. Let alone elegantly. Luckily he figured out exactly what game The Tooth Fairy's Castle was playing as Medium Dave faded and bled though the floor. It was dealing with them.

Yes. That was why his Banjo wasn't working properly, and she was there.

".._**Mad kid aren't you?…"**_

Everything seemed to start… undermining him at that point.

"_**..chucking a stone at a cat and setting it on fire…"**_

His brute wasn't of any use if it couldn't follow orders.

"_**..no one wanted to play with you, not the boy with no friends…" **_

No one would shut up when he told them to.

"_**..looks up dolls dresses…."**_

He'd never encountered a sword before that wouldn't slice. Or sever. Or even knick.

Then she went off with petty threats and insults. And she had slappedhim.

Now Teatime always had appreciated being corrected as the circumstance called for it. All for the betterment and progress of his efforts. Why just yesterday he had thanked Mr. Downey again as he finished removing his throat. Downey had even been kind enough to finish granting him full membership before his arm stopped moving.

"Susan".

Teatime gripped the hilt tightly. Grinning over gritted teeth. He swiped the blade though a lamppost, cutting through the iron like a hot knife though butter. _Just imagine what it could do with-_

* * *

Her hand had been on the kettle headed to the sink to fill. She hadn't heard footsteps or breathing, rather she had felt it on the back of her neck. Far to high to be Gawain or Twyla, and far to low to be Mr. or Mrs. Gaiter. Of course who the person behind her was needed no introduction when the cold length of the sword pressed to her spine.

"Teatime" she breathed. She'd not been concerned by the lack of a body at the bottom of the Castle's stairwell when as all those killed there fell straight away into The Unseen University.

"Walk" he suggested helpfully increasing the sword's pressure on her back and moving his right foot forward. Susan obeyed thoughtlessly, mind trying to figure her an exit she could make her way out of intact. If it was not for the sword she'd have no problem fading off to the side. If it was not for his extraordinary speed she'd have made a dash. _If it was not_-

He walked her to the counter along the opposite end of the kitchen. Her eyes darting out of the doorway to check that the stockings remained untouched, children out of the parlor.

Both his hands were on the hilt. Which was one advantage. Had the kettle only been filled with scalding hot, or even un boiled water she could have thrown it into his eyes. Susan would have to make due with swinging it at his head as hard as she could and making her way to some more formidable house ware.

She jerked forward and spun on him with as much force as possible. However he hadn't needed both of his hands to hold the sword's threat in place. The free set of digits sprung out to meet her's as quickly as he had stopped the right hook in the castle. Taking possession of the handle, he wrapped his fingers around the kettle along with Susan's, squeezing her fingers painfully into the metal. Teatime then pushed the two of them the rest of the way to the counter. Using his hips to slam her back into its edge. The sword now pressed menacingly against her left shoulder.

"There you go again," He tsk'd both pale blue and deep black boring into her. "You go off without knowing the rules of the game" The childish chide becoming a frustrated grit. "I bet no one _likes to play with __**you**_". Teatime leaned forward, with an effortless knack for the most perverse invasion of personal space she'd ever encountered.

Susan craned her neck back as far as possible. Rock and Hard Place. She really did think she was done with her obligation to order for today. Obviously not having left the familial burden at the door as was hoped. The Tooth Fairy was gone and Hogfather restored, there was no reason for this mad man to be here. How had he found here? And what could he possibly want now?

Of course there was the sword. He'd managed to hold on to the proverbial death wish.

Not taking the risk of glancing at Granddad's sword_._ _It was entirely unnecessary, already very aware of its presence from the cold weight caging her left side._ She instead met his glower. Chin confident, but eyes swimming with the various ways in which this could spin out of control.

Teatime's glare remained fixed on her face. Susan holding it for several pensive moments before his brow rose back up. The edges of his mouth lifting the slightest bit forming a tight plastic grin. Voice dropping a few decibels. "That's all right Susan, I'd like to play with you".

"I've no desire to play with you Mr. Teatime" Humorless and succinct as ever. "Thought_ I_ made that quite clear before _you_ made impact". _So biting back a small smile of satisfaction and getting right on with it, _"What do _you want_?"

"But you don't know what game I've in mind" he let her consider that before selling the activity to her with a bright smile. "Its so much fun" …the inflection telling a wholly different story. Memories still fresh of 'making impact' in his mind.

"What is it you want sir?" Tone even but frustration building. Sure that the only games he played were that of mind and all had the same forgone conclusion whether you _could _win or lose them.

"That wasn't very…altruistic…letting me fall" Jonathan enunciated the adjective, stressing the syllables, ignoring her last question.

"Well you tore my sleeve," not taking his attempt to appear slighted seriously. Fortitude returning as she remembered what it was like to reason with this man. "In any case if we have no business you can show yourself out".

His eyes widened a fraction. "Oh but we do" he disagreed simply. "I believe we were in the middle of some very _pressing_ business"

"You mean trying to cut me in two?"

He let out a bark of laughter, the sound beginning too late and ending too early. "Things weren't working properly before" The sword's tip moved to hover over Susan's temple. "but, everything seems to be in order now".

"Well then," humoring him and taking control of the hand still holding kettle "If I could I offer you-"

He drew arm and kettle both down to the counter harshly. Fingers letting up on her own. "Thank you, but I'm not thirsty at the moment" the tone warm but the underlying order undeniable. When Susan's hand remained firmly on the handle he returned the former pressure, "Put it down," He tapped the blade to her temple, "Please".

Seeing no way out she released her hold of the kettle. Bitterly. Her hand slipping out from under Teatime's as he wrenched the kettle away sending it sliding down the counter. It hit the wall with a loud BANG and horrid CLATTER.

Susan winced inwardly. She mustn't have the children up and about with this particular Bogey Man here. Any earlier then she knew was eminent... Damn. There weren't very many options available to her. If she could kill him now…A man would leave much more evidence then a Bogey, and give way to such inconvenient questions.

Seeking to take back control of her domain Susan leveled him with a withering look. "I'll ask you to keep it down, its barely 4' in the morning", managing that in her best intolerant governess reprimand Susan brought her now free hand up to her chest and in reach of her left. The kettle left angry red marks on her fingers. Bringing her eyes down to the injured hand, she stole a glance at the sword from under her lashes. Teatime needed to be relieved of it as soon as possible. She'd feel more at ease with it in the hands of Billius, or even back with Banjo.

"My apologies Ms. Sto Helit" he pleaded with a shallow politeness. "I would not want to wake…are we alone here?".

Susan kept her eyes downcast. If Teatime wasn't aware of whose home he invaded she wasn't about to enlighten him. Even now she was running out of time to deal with this without the other members of the household becoming collateral damage.

She needed to lead his mind into probing else where. Which shouldn't take much when the boy had the attention span of one of the Gaiter's late goldfish. "I…". Bringing her gaze back to his face she found Teatime's attention was directed upward. Her eyes flew to his currently unengaged hand only to find it missing.

"Why Susan-" Jonathan traced her scalp's natural part, fingertips traveling over the singular black streak flowing up through her stark white hair. His hand moving to cup the significantlysmaller bun at the back of her skull. He didn't know if he liked the flat conventional coiffure. He remembered her hair being far more…striking last he saw it. A mess of over woven spider webs and fishing line.

"You really shouldn't have changed it" he admonished earnestly looking back down at her raised brows, "You could hardly hide anything in there now". His eyes drifted back in wonder seemingly contemplating what he could have fit up there earlier today, before lowering to her mouth.

Susan's lips parted as if to respond, but closed as she drew her eyebrows back down to give him a concerned (if not lost) expression. His own expression and words putting her at a loss.

Smiling at succeeding in knocking her off kilter he took in the 'new' Susan Sto Helit. He almost didn't recognize her through the window. Ms. Sto Helit was without the cloak and black corset. _**The corset hadn't covered as much skin.**_ She was smiling,_ that may have been a trick of the light_, but her demeanor was…less. _**He liked the corset. All hooks, clasps, and trapped breath.**_

If not for the two toned hair…_**He liked her hair before. **_She didn't resemble the woman who ruined his chance at world dominion. _**He enjoyed tangling his fingers in it. **_Normal. Harmless. _**Such a better grip**__._

_**The new outfit was very school teacher though.**_She'd pay for that. And how very careless not to arm herself. _**He could see her shape without the cloak. **_Then again disarming her in the castle hadn't been terribly difficult. _**School teachers had never been very nice to him**_**.** It must have been a fluke she'd succeeded in overtaking him last night. _**Susan wasn't very nice.**_

With the Castle, Banjo, and Sword on her side. _**They liked to correct, Susan liked to correct. **_But now there was no Castle, no Banjo, and he had the sword. _**None of his school teachers had looked quite like Susan. But still just as tightly wound. **_He wondered what the girl would, or could, do now. _**Very, very school teacher, with long skirt, and the tight vest. **_

If he should kill her, would Susan's Grandfather come to the rescue? _**Were there stockings under the skirt? Garter belt perhaps? **_He was very anxious for a chance to meet him. It would be quite the auspicious occasion! _**More hooks and things that bind.**_ Teatime was sure Death would feel the same after Jonathan severed his head.

"I hadn't thought of that," she offered back in dry condescension, "Most people don't use their heads for more then taking up space on their shoulders, you don't seem to make use of it at all".

"Oh heads can be used for lots of things" Teatime explained, words dripping with a confident darker knowledge. This woman had a nasty habit of talking down to him. For nobility she was rather ill-mannered. He could correct that.

His hand palming the bun suddenly clenched the pinned hair, twisting it like a door knob with all intended force. Her head whipped off to the side from the sharp pain. Cheek meeting the cold broad side of the blade.

"That for instance," With her head turned he leaned right into her ear, still giggling with mirth and calculating immaturity.

Susan was not amused by school yard pranks, but unruly little boys who pulled girls hair and played with things they shouldn't was her calling.

Seeing as she was without paddle or poker she'd have to fight fire with fire. Her hands shot up to Teatime's clutch on her bun. Nails digging in like hooks as the heel of her boot found its way intohis foot.

His body twisted away from Susan's hazardous appendages just long enough for her to break away.

She made it to the doorway. Though not quite outside. Teatime catching her just as she broke the wall. One arm holding the sword's edge diagonal across her chest, the other wrapped around her waist. His nails in certain retribution dug firmly into her flesh. Not drawing blood if only for a thin layer of starched clothing.

Susan's hands clutched the door frame. She'd managed her way out of one unsavory position into another.

Jonathan was positively sure this was the same women he had come here to kill now.

Teatime's chin dropped to her shoulder. Trapping her face between the dividing wall and his curly blond skull. Glancing sideways she regarded the glossy black eye and the tight line of his mouth. Sure he was about to break into sunny threats with the highest level of decorum before the softest of sounds broke the tension.

The pitter patter of footsteps down the stairs.

"Children?" he breathed a terrible fascination overtaking him. Head turning to follow the pair.

Gawain and Twyla made their way to the fireplace collecting their stockings and shaking out the contents therein onto the floor. Fortunately too consumed by gleeful avarice to notice Ms. Sto Helit and Mr. Teatime's heads poking out from the kitchen.

Susan stared frozen at Teatime's face. His eyes lighting up like gaudy Hogswatch tress. She could almost make out the children reflected in his ebony false.

"There are children?" his voice still low but loud enough to be heard out in the parlor.

Susan panicked, mentally berating the children. She had not wanted to involve them. A small indiscernible choke escaped her throat bringing Teatime's attention back to her.

Jonathan could feel her pulse speed up, her neck pressed firmly to his cheek. So she had wanted to hide the curly haired tots? His eyes traveled back to her face. Head still facing out to the new arrivals. He was truly torn. Children made this a lot more interesting, but watching Susan hold her breath was just too tempting. At least for a little while…

Susan hardened, following his train of thought to its despicable destination. Narrowing her eyes and shaking her head, she whispered (with great care not to draw little ears over), but voice cracked with unnatural base "You wouldn't _dare_".

A grin spread over his face, releasing a shrill giggle (similar to that of nails on a chalk board). Wouldn't dare? Susan wanted to play that game with him?

He was about to ask just what she thought he wouldn't dare to do-

Fluting noises rose up in the parlor.

She hadn't remembered them asking for anything that made a noise, but silently thanked granddad. She could see the word "dare" had done nothing to dissuade Te-a-ti-me. While she had stopped him once today, she knew it would not be as easy outside of the Tooth fairy's realm. The sword would work here.

There was most certainly death here.

"Are they yours?" He asked suddenly. Did Death have more then one relative? They weren't named in Twerps Peerage. _Did Susan have a husband upstairs as well?_

Susan was taken aback by the question. The threat she intended to deliver going back down her throat as if she swallowed it the wrong way. There was the temporary shock at the thought of conceiving, and the lasting displeasure in Teatime's interest in the Gaiters. More of his apparent daft intentions of drawing out her Grandfather. She would _not _toleratethe kids mixed up in _that_business.

"These children are of no concern of yours you twisted** git**" she spat the words, practically hissing them into his ear.

Teatime didn't rise to the bait, instead he sought out retribution.

"Can you have children Susan?" his voice became thicker. Incensed. Hand dropping lower on her waist, nails trailing a downward path. "I wonder if a freak of nature...would have all the necessary… anatomy" .

She almost sputtered, too affronted to blush or erupt. "What do you think-?" she inhaled sharply. Her fury unable to concentrate on a target. His words _or_ his hands.

"For someone whose only ever looked up doll's dresses it would be instructional" a smile crept into his voice. His head turned further into her neck. Mouth rising to the shell of her ear to whisper privately "_educational even_".

His palm found its destination. Stopping right bellow the last button of her vest. Fingers fanning down just above her skirt's last button. Just above her slip's seam. Just above her knickers waist. _Just above_-

With that came twin overwhelming emotions.

The first tangible. A combined assault of physical touch on her womanhood, and the sensation of heated breath down her neck was both jarring and motivating. The second intangible. Instead of arousal or hysterics over the insult to her feminine sensibilities was something very familiar. And very welcome.

Black. Calm. Calculated. Rage.

Catching herself before she could call attention to them. She used her hands on the door frame to push backward. Propelling herself. Her body taking Teatime's along for the ride. His sword arm falling away as he tried to regain balance. _The offending hand _moved back up to maintain a better hold on her upper torso as her added weight made it harder to catch himself.

Teatime did not topple however. He teetered backward about 5 steps before stopping.

He wasn't entirely out of commission, but Susan was victorious in moving them away from the entryway and back out of sight.

She listened to the children's screeching harmony, pleased when it did not stop. They weren't alerted to the commotion in the kitchen. If she was lucky they wouldn't hear her disembowel _**T**_ time with the gravy ladle.

Jonathan blinked at the newly made distance put between him and the living room. Slowly registering how and why he was suddenly sent backward.

Seeing the assassin in shock, his dangerous right arm held up and out to his side to steady his person, she took advantage. The arm holding her body to his chest had gone slack, so it was easy enough to throw off. Intending to spin away and face him before creating a large gap between them.

Susan succeeded in her first objective, but not the second. Teatime followed her movement, remaining behind her, both arms crossing over her neck and collar bone. Choke hold returned.

But with both her arms now liberated (with a reaffirmed vow to never be pinned down _ever _again) Susan took hold of his forearms. Tugging them down as she ducked herself, successfully sending Teatime over her shoulders.

Of course he recuperated from this attempt much faster then the other. The moment body met floor he leapt back up in one fluid motion. Mind actively buzzing to anticipate the next move.

He hated to be argued with, but somehow this was quite entertaining. Though she was hardly the first to put up a fight, she just might have been the first to last this long.

Teatime lunged at Susan sword raised.

She in turn went off to the side. Circling back to his side of the room, but moving further back then he had previously been. On instinct putting the wall behind her to avoid being caught from behind once more.

That did create its own disadvantages though. Now she was back in her original predicament back at the counter. Rock and Hard place.

Teatime must have realized this as well because it put the smile back on his face. He hated to be argued with, but he was beginning to love watching Susan try to outsmart him.

So instead of moving in for the kill he decided to let her try to think her way out of this.

With the sword held out in front of him he began swinging it side to side like the pendulum in the Grandfather clock. Although it all gave the impression of an over sized finger wagging at her in admonition.

"Forgive me Madam" He began, words lacking in any and all sincerity, "That may have been…inelegant".

The smug satisfied expression on his face worked her nerves from the inside out. Narrowing her eyes it was then she resolved to use any and all measures necessary to make sure she wiped it off permanently.

She found herself entirely within her rights. This was of course a matter of familial duty. Nay the Order of the Universe. That sword belonged to the Anthropomorphic Personification of Death. _**He'd need to be punished for theft**__. _

She needed to retrieve it, and restore it to its rightful owner. _**After she retrieved it from Teatime's chest. **_She had lapsed in her responsibility, allowing a mortal to take the sword. _**She would correct this egregious error by dropping him from the roof (as many times as necessary) to prevent a repeat occurrence. **_And to set a firm, certain example to all who were as cracked and suicidal.

He may have the sword at his disposal, fully functional in this plain. But her own weapons were at her disposal now, fully functional in this plain.

Susan snapped her fingers.

The world around her, its mice scurrying through walls, wind blowing against the windows, and the children's music halting accordingly.

All except the condescending sway of the blade back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and fo… Back and f… Back an…

With such sick thawing recognition she came to realize her freeze had no power over him while he held the sword.

He'd been worried for a second there. That she might use one of her tricks to cheat again, like rendering the sword useless back at the castle. She certainly seemed sure of herself when she snapped her fingers. It did work in pausing everything around them. He was a bit confused as to what that accomplished until he took a good look at her face.

She was certainly surprised, which meant she hadn't intended for it not to have arrested him.

Laughter rose up in the back of his throat, grating against Susan's ears like sandpaper on open nerves.

It was quite the thrill out maneuvering Death. Teatime fancied himself the best, but it was such sweet validation. Though, he couldn't decide which was the more satisfying prize. Validation or the look on Susan's face right now.

She seemed to be unraveling. Literally in fact…hair unraveling, bun breaking loose as long curls materialized out of no where. Her eyebrows dropped. Perturbed scowl becoming furious glare. Black irises shining with far more light then was available in the room. The light source didn't appear to be originating within the room at all, but from within Susan. The glow melting the black back into a deep violet hue.

Teatime slowed his sword's pacing. He did not know Susan could do that.

Another violet flash to his left caught Jonathan's attention. His eyes drifting down to his sword as it slowly traveled back to the right. Bolts of violet sparks rippling up ether side of the blade. He cocked his head to the side, mouth slightly agape at the discovery. He lifted the unusual light up to Susan's noting the similar shade. That _was_ unexpected.

Amused with the impromptu light show, Teatime was caught off guard when Susan came at him taking possession of the swords hilt. The large, extravagant bone motif was caged under Susan hands, while Teatime held on fiercely to the lower handle.

If she could use no alternate route she'd rip the bloody sword out of his cold dead hands!

They struggled in a intense tug-o-war. Pushing each other back into walls, cabinets, chairs, and a sturdy table. Sharp jerking movements meant to dislodge the other one's grip.

He enjoyed watching Susan come up with ways to outsmart him, but he wasn't about to lose his newest toy again today. His mind, adept with matters of mutilation, maiming, and machination, arrived at a colorful, practical solution.

Teatime let the hilt go slowly. Allowing Susan to pull it back towards herself, as she maintained a grip on the gaudy cross guard. He waited for one shining moment, _before_ retaking the handle and pulling the sword right through Susan's hands. The blade slicing through her palms faster then she could remove them.

Taking the sword back, he watched her bring up her lacerated hands with a quick intake of breath.

She didn't scream next, but exhaled slowly. Shoulders coming up sharply. Face still cool and composed, but pinched.

He took this chance to advance on her, reaching out to grab her elbow and pull her toward him.

Susan found trying to escape his hold while unable to use her hands was difficult. She pulled away, but lost all balance falling backwards. The one thing holding her up being Teatime's left hand gripping her elbow.

Which he let then let go of, watching her drop to the floor in interest.

She looked up at him contemptuously, her vision beginning to swim. The floor had managed to give a good deal of the impact to the bump she had received earlier this morning. Her head throbbed, the beat further impeding her senses.

The ceiling became obscured as blond curls and two mismatched eyes stepped over her.

He studied Susan with a strange mix of curiosity and a terrible display of gears turning. Not one ounce of concern.

She took in his expression through double vision. Preparing to take unconsciousness or Teatime, whichever took her first. With her arms temporarily no good to her she readied her legs. Boot heels the last line of defense.

But before she could put ether of them to good use Teatime anticipated the action. Stepping on the long skirt splayed out about her legs. Clothing pinning her down to the ground.

He kneeled with great care to keep her legs beneath him and pinned. She went to swing her arms at him, willing to use them in any capacity to bat him away. He captured both wrists easily, bringing them over her head with one hand.

Teatime leaned further down to her face, her eyes trying desperately to focus. She renewed her struggle momentarily, but lost the battle to hold on to the waking world.

He watched her for several minutes considering what to do with her now. Free hand moving down from slack wrists, to her neck. The pulse had slowed. He slid his hand from her vein to under her shoulders.

Slowly, in case she was trying to trick him again, he put down the sword. Moving his leg and unpinning her skirt, he slipped his right arm under her knees. Lifting her up with him as he stood.

Teatime held her a minute more before deciding just what to do with Ms. Sto Helit.

* * *

A cold, wet splash brought Susan back. She was sitting in a chair in the Gaiter's kitchen. At the sudden freezing jolt she attempted to sit up.

Only to realize she was unable to. Someone had fastened a rope around her waist, securely tied to the back of the chair.

Her head ached and her hands _burned_. Susan brought them to her face, her wrists were bound together, although not tied down into her seat... Her mind tried to recall how she arrived in the present, but was unable to grasp anything that happened before she awoke.

But she had awoke…when she was doused with what was most definitely water.

Who?

Susan, both wondrously groggy and disoriented, instantaneously sobered at the black form stepping into her line of sight.

Pulling himself up a chair, Teatime took a seat directly in front of her. He watched her face as she recalled their last meeting.

Those eyes dropped to her bloody wrists. Jonathan then took Susan's restrained hands away from her, bringing the wounded palms to his mouth.

TBC.


	2. Quarter Past One

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their copyright holders.

When was Susan knocked out cold she was a much more agreeable person Teatime found.

Using his foot he propped back up a fallen chair, sitting her down. Her limbs crumpled to the side with nothing to hold them up like a marionette with unattended strings. He used one hand on her shoulder to hold up her right side, with the other he pulled a length of rope from his coat.

Starting with her right he fastened her ankle to the chair's leg, moving to repeat the process with the left. He thought about removing her boots, sharp baneful heels, but simply restraining them would suffice for now.

Jonathan walked to the back of the kitchen chair, keeping a firm hand on Susan's shoulder, lest she slip right out of the seat. Crouching down he made to wrap the rope around her waist slipping his hand from her shoulder down her side to bring the rope back through. The action might have resembled an embrace to the casual observer before Teatime pulled back the ends of the rope and tied them firmly to the furniture.

Rising he looked down over her shoulder into her lap. Her wrists were unbound. He doubted she could untie the knots with her hands sliced up like that, but he wasn't so quick to underestimate her again. So he bent over her shoulders. Resting his head on her own as he tied both wrists together.

Susan's head lolled back as he stood. Hair as he remembered it, snowy and hurricane-swept. Teatime pulled his fingers through it before letting her head fall haplessly to the right.

With Susan taken care of he returned to his sword reaching down to pluck it back up.

There was nothing to do with her out cold and he didn't think Grandfather Death was upstairs.

The children were still out in the parlor. He could hear them banging around. He could hear them. He could _hear._

Teatime let a wave of sound wash over him. Susan's trick had expired once she lost consciousness.

So the children…

He crept to the doorway footsteps falling silently peering out into the living room. The children had forgone noisy stocking stuffers for ripping open packages. Tearing shiny paper to bits and throwing empty boxes about the room.

Amid the rustling paper Teatime heard another sound. Someone coming down the stairs.

No several someone_**s**_. A whole party of adults.

One brilliant black blur traveled to the top of the stairwell.

Mr. Gaiter was a considerably taller man, but it didn't take much to push him off balance and forward.

In a morbidly marvelous display of human dominoes, _Mr_. Gaiter slammed into _Mrs_. Gaiter before bashing his head off the banister. Mrs. Gaiter arms flailing wildly at her sides, looking more like she was trying to fly off then regain her balance, tripped into the maid. Both women tumbled down to the bottom step in a horrible parody of leap frog. Mrs. Gaiter faired better in the landing. The poor maid breaking her fall and quite possibly her neck.

The youngest members of the household were brought out of their reverie by the crashing grownups.

Gawain looked to his sister for answers. Twyla undisturbed by the racket went back to the spoils of Hogswatch. Her little brother, less then assured, took hold of her night gown. Tugging urgently. "Twyla! The noise coming down-".

She brushed him off impatiently taking critical inventory of her gifts, making sure Hogfather hadn't stiffed her one item off that list. "Oh its probably just a bogey, Susan'll-"

"But Susan is _up_stairs!"

That gave Twyla pause. They could shout for her, but that would wake up mother and father. She made a dramatic show of sighing as she rose. Fetching a poker from the fireplace, snatching up Gawain's hand, and pulling him towards the stairwell.

They'd expected a doddering old horned monster, not an arm. Not the maids arm hanging over the bottom step.

"She Must've fell…"

The pair approached cautiously the rest of the steps slowly coming into view. The maid's other arm was bent back behind her in what couldn't be a comfortable position. One leg had gotten tangled through the railing, the second was sticking straight up, the third was…

The third was-

"Mommy?" Gawain asked moving to check on his mother, jumbled up as badly as their servant.

Twyla squeezed his hand hard, yanking him back to her side. When he turned to question his sister he found her head directed past mother, eyes climbing the stairwell.

Father was propped up by the guard rail, arms slung over the sides, knees tucked under him. Red dripping down the bridge of his nose.

Higher still stood another adult all done out in black.

Gawain stepped behind Twyla as the man favored them with a winning smile.

"Hello".

Twyla's poker clanged as it dropped to the ground.

* * *

Teatime had just finished putting up the household making sure to shut the basement door behind him. He thought it rude to rush, but he had other matters to attend to.

Namely Susan. Who'd been out for nearly an hour now. When he made it back into the kitchen he found her still very much _not _awake. She had a trying night and suffered several distressing blows, but hardly a concussion. The most sensible thing to do in this situation would be to wait until she came to.

Naturally he fetched a glass of cold water and dumped it over her head.

He watched Ms. Sto Helit test out the binds as he pulled up a chair of his own. She recognized him, he could practically see their tête-tête replaying across her features as she remembered. Placing his glass on the table he shrugged off his coat. Jonathan gave her a moment to say something, but she just regarded him warily.

She had pulled her wrists up to her chin, distracted. Teatime dropped his gaze from Susan's face and took possession of her hands. He hadn't bothered nor cared to bandage the wounds. So it took very little manipulation to reopen them, coaxing out blood flow.

Susan tried to pull back her hands at his painful ministrations, but his grip was rigid. She began to tug forcibly when-

He lowered his mouth to her palms. And her wrists went _slack._

It wasn't quite a kiss. She thought it very chaste until he parted his lips. Raising his head Jonathan's tongue swept outside his mouth, counterclockwise.

She watched this in morbid fascination unable to turn to away, but not quite able to process what she could not turn away from. With a thoughtful expression on his face Teatime placed her bound extremities back onto her lap.

"What are yo-", then deciding just as quickly she did not want to know, "Untie me right _now_".

He didn't appear to be paying attention though, rather he was considering how she tasted. Which was not at all different then what he had previously experienced. Jonathan wasn't sure whether or not that was a disappointment yet. At the return of her scowl however he turned back to her.

"I thought…that something like that was supposed to make it feel better" he drawled out sarcastically, well aware by now Susan did not _like_ to be treated _like_ a child.

"And do I feel better?" she snorted.

She could tell by the little smirk he thought he'd been very clever. Not amused or impressed Susan instead turned her attention elsewhere. Eyes seeking out the sword. He wasn't holding it. It wasn't by his side, in his lap, or on the table...

Teatime saw her eyes flicker about annoyed, but not as furious as she had been previously. Her hair, drenched, plastered to her face. "I imagine you'd feel-" he reached out taking a handful of hair and wringing the locks of water. Which proceeded to pour down over her soaking her clothes further."Cold".

Her teeth chattered. Dress shirt clinging to her skin effectively vacuum sealing her in a tight chilly vice.

"You know" His hand found the collar of her vest, releasing the top button and starting on the second. "You could catch your death"

Susan whipped her head to the side, hair slopping the icy water into his face. "I'm quite comfortable" she assured him serenely. In all actuality she was freezing. Winter air becoming biting as it came in contact with her damp clothes. The draft coming in from under the window-

The draft? The wind? There wasn't supposed to be any- Her mouth went dry at the terrible realization. Her eyes becoming round.

He had been up and about with-

"Oh yes the children-" Teatime brought his sleeve up to dry his face, watching Susan turn to the living room. Her neck spun back around so fast he had suspicions it might've snapped or gone the full 360.

"What have you done?"

"To or with?" Susan was very rude. He was certain there was a puddle behind his eye now. And once something got in there he had a hell of a time getting it out.

He smacked the back of his skull popping out the glass orb.

"The children!" Susan demanded severely concerned and entirely caught off guard by Teatime's grooming.

"Gawain and Twyla" he offered dabbing inside the empty socket.

"Their names?" How had he come by-?

"Of course the whole family was up to greet me, I met briefly with their parents" He rubbed the eye on his coat drying. "It wasn't a very long reception".

"Reception?" she questioned softly.

"There wasn't room for any real-" blowing on his false before buffing it with his sleeve, "Pleasantries", he finished popping back in his left eye.

"Wh-" She tried to decipher what he meant behind his vague seemingly innocent explanation. "Why?" her eyebrow rose.

"Well your Grandfather will be _here soon_" he beamed both eyes back in place.

Her blood ran cold. What did he mean by her grandfather would be here soon? For whom?

"I didn't have much time and-" Teatime leaned into her draining face "I wanted to spend it with you Susan" he smiled as if she should be pleased he'd set aside said time.

Her eyes smoldered in a way that any lesser lunatic would have taken his leave just then. _As_ quickly _as_ possible in the opposite direction. This lunatic was quite confident in his abilities at the moment however. One arm reached behind him pulling out Death's Sword. His eyes traveled up and down the blade.

"I'm sure you could come up with something creative" he brought the sword down, a sick whizzing sound sharp against her ear "But I still have your grandfather's sword"

He tapped her hands, both shoulders, and then turned to return the sword behind the chair. "And there are only so many flesh wounds someone can endure before-"

When he turned back to Susan he found her injured hands raised in one balled first.

She hauled off smacking him hardacross the face. This sending Teatime crashing sideways to the floor. Triumphant, but still restrained Susan lifted her binds to her mouth. Jaw determined, chewing, biting, and gnawing with purpose.

Teatime smiled into the floor, he let his eyelids close slowly, before snapping them open with their own malevolent purpose. Moving up like a serpent unnoticed by Susan.

Grasping behind both bound feet he wrenched the chair's legs forward, sending her seat and all crashing backwards to the floor.

The sudden impact caused Susan to bite down on her tongue. She winced flat on her back and having gotten nowhere with her binds. Her vision was greatly obscured now as well. Her legs bound up above her on the raised chair's legs. He grasped her kneecap pulling himself into a sitting position.

When she caught sight of his face all traces of the animated loquacious man were gone.

There was instead a silence more unnerving then any of his threats.

His gaze was intent. A stare so heavy she could almost feel its weight as a hand closing around the column of her throat. "Ms. Sto Helit you know I'd hoped we might be _friends_" The word 'friends' managed to carry more venom then the previous suggestions regarding flesh wounds.

"I really think we might get along _better_" There was a brief twitch in the hand resting on her knee cap as he ground that out. She could feel the fingers begin to rise undoubtedly to reach back for the sword. "If I _removed _them".

Then all at once his murderous scrutiny floated back to his hand.

The one clasping her kneecap. Her now _exposed_ kneecap.

After the chair had fallen her skirts, as gravity dictated, had fallenback over her hips leaving her legs open to the elements.

Teatime brought both of their attentions to the subject. Susan attempted to push them back up, but couldn't reach far enough. The skirt and slip continuing to drop until she fisted her hands in the cloth. Teatime regarded Susan's futile attempt mutely.

Using his fingertips he pinched the hem of the skirt and slip pulling them back himself. He'd been right on both accounts. Susan wore stockings _and _a garter belt. He absently let go of her garments letting them fall right over her face.

Jonathan fingered the thin strip of black cloth following the bridge from her knickers to her, _naturally_, black stockings. "I hoped we could pass the time" He found the second supportive strip on the back of her thigh "With civil conversation"

Teatime brought himself over her legs to see her drowning in starched petticoats. Looking down her face and fisted hands promised death and dismemberment, but Jonathan found there was plenty to amuse himself with up here.

"But this could be... entertaining as well"

He ran a finger down the length of one leg, still clothed in the thin stocking. They certainly didn't make dolls like this_**.**_And Susan did appear to have all necessary anatomy...

With the other hand Teatime snapped one of the garter's hooks letting the stocking loosen. The second followed shortly after. His eyebrows rose in a brief flash as the stocking jumped now free of the restraints, before bunching up leaving Susan's thigh bare.

There were some muffled protests from under the pile of skirts, but he didn't pay them any mind.

Jonathan attentively slid his fingertips under the nylon. Slowly rolling it up as he peeled it down her leg. When he reached her ankle he tucked the stocking into the boot.

That accomplished he let his hand travel back over the skin he'd just exposed, caressing the smooth flesh from the calve back to the garter belt. My wasn't Susansoft_. _He lowered his head brushing his cheek against the curve to enjoy that softness.

Almost pining for his violence Susan fought her way out of her dressings gasping for air.

"Stop- What're?- Stop!". How he'd switched from the one activity to this other had her reeling. At one point she suspected he meant to sever her leg, but after he'd finished playing with her undergarments he took to-

The bastard was- he was rubbing his face over her knees.

"So this is how you get your jollies then? By tying women up and molesting them?" The denigration tactic had worked splendidly before, even if she didn't have a ledge at her disposal this time. She struggled to wiggle her toes in her boot, if she could get her foot out-

With one finger he pulled back the garter belt, much like a rubber band, letting it snap back into her skin painfully. He eyed the other leg.

"No, I've tied lots of women up" He sat back taking in Susan's position "And I can honestly say I've never tried this before". He watched her joints move like she were a cat about to pounce on something.

She could feel his curls tickling as he moved to remove the other stocking. Susan wasn't able to do much with her legs due to the restrictions, but she could jerk her knees. Erratically working her legs she successfully dislodged Teatime's unwanted hands before he was able to unhook the second garter.

At the loss of sensation Susan hoped he might have lost interest. She couldn't see him over the chair or her protruding legs, but tried to strain her neck. When she felt his hands wrapping around her ankles she let her head drop back with a thud. Rolling her eyes and attempting to kick out her leg. Of course that was about as effective as trying to stand up at this point.

His hands left her ankles to grip her knees, sliding his hold down uncomfortably close to her thighs. Susan continued to jerk them side to side. She didn't find this contact any more welcome, but she assumed if she kept his hands preoccupied long enough he'd have to give up or be drawn into a new mind game.

Then she felt his mouth on the back of her leg undoing the remaining hook. Teatime took the stocking in his teeth, drawing it down like he had the other.

_He couldn't possibly have just done that._

Stunned or bemused she suddenly became engrossed with the ceiling. Teatime meanwhile repositioned himself in front of Susan's legs now able to run his hands up and down either.

In truth he had never done anything like this before. He had Ms. Bottler tied up earlier, but she'd been gagged. His features tensed as he remembered the incessant babbling. But if he gagged Susan he might miss out on her little pithy repartee. Then again he hadn't been with a lady in some time. He didn't come in contact with many of them. There wasn't much time for females in The Assassins Guild. Usually when he wasn't out on a contract, he was studying.

His hands continued their traveling in a slow looping repetition. Their movement methodic even as Susan's legs had stopped any movement a while ago. Which made seeing past her knees a lot easier. Everything was silky and pale as far as he could see except. Except. The small black speck above the left garter.

Susan tried to be practical about this. She tried to ignore the situation at first. She tried to follow the faults of cracking paint above her. She tried to wait him out. She tried to come up with some sort of plan. More importantly she continued her attempts to work on undoing the knot at her hands. A noble venture hindered if only by the fact every time she got the rope into her mouth. She couldn't manage to keeping her jaw clamped down. She couldn't stop her jaw from...opening.

An entirely unwilled visceral action, that was not in any way, shape or form a moan_._

And if it wasn't the…jaw spasms…it was the shivering. Though her clothes were still soggy and chilled, she was anything but cold. In fact the heat was becoming insufferable. She panted, managing to make it look more like she was put out and annoyed then a lovers sigh.

A freckle on the inner thigh. He leaned in to scrutinize it further. His fingers sliding forward with him. At the touch of his hands, far too close to her innermost region, Susan started to shift her legs about once more.

So using one hand he gripped the bottom of her upper leg, shaking it briskly, before bringing it to his face. Pulling the thigh as far as he could with her person secured to the chair.

Teatime was a lot stronger then she wanted to admit, with both seat and governess rising ever so slightly higher in his exploratory pursuit. Yet this new angle opened a new window of opportunity. She made quick use of her right knee. Taking aim and slamming it back into his Blonde curls. Keeping his eye on the dot, his arm shot out to capture the attacking limb, yanking it back so violently it was a miracle he didn't pop it out of its socket.

Then sitting back on his heels, he rose up, coming into view well over Susan's lap.

Ms. Sto Helit's hair was disheveled, sticking to her cheeks and the floor. Her skirts were rumpled over her in disarray, hiding her hands. She'd dug her teeth into the rope, eyes trained on the ceiling. She was pointedly ignoring him, but he wasn't terribly troubled by that.

He skimmed his hands down her thighs until he reached her hips. Fingers grazing either side his gaze fell between. Jonathan was fairly certain he'd had all the fun that was to be had fooling from heel to hip bone. Correction, there was one part of Susan he hadn't played with yet.

The heat of his gaze, its direction as well, brought back her undivided attention. Susan, with great effort, pulled herself up on her elbows. Eyes boring into his skull until his own met hers.

"Don't. you. _dare_" there was a deep echoing quality to her voice again. A deadly foreboding note that any normal person would never want to encounter again. Audacity challenged, Teatime wanted nothing more then to see if he could hear her vocalize that pitch again and again and agai-

Thus the threat did nothing to deter and everything to inspire. Why he must be doing something _right_ to elicit that vocal a response. Settling himself back between her legs he raked his nails over the sides of her knickers, tracing the seams. His index fingers found themselves inside her waist band, thumbs trailing over the fabric. Digits making their way the short distance to the center excruciatingly slow.

The natural urge to arch her back was hindered by the rope binding her to the chair, blessedly. Intent on not giving him the satisfaction, even if he _may _have given her some.

Taking his sweet time Jonathan was paying careful attention to the fit Susan was working herself to. This was very similar to torture in that he simply had to apply pressure until the subject couldn't sustain any longer. Usually before that happened they would do or say whatever it was he wanted from them. What Susan would do when she reached her limit was particularly alluring. He could make out faint stifled sounds, but nothing too definitive as his knuckles brushed her navel. It had been awhile but he remembered there was a certain…closing call. A loud, impassioned upheaval. His thumbs arrived at her lips with a serious studious determination.

Her body convulsed so spectacularly she thought if the binds around her waist weren't removed she'd snap her spine in half. It was not a release. Every muscle in her body tensed, sending a crushing tidal wave of pressure up her neck to her head. Mind numbing and infuriating.

She cursed her parents for not being able to keep their hormones in check, the human race for creating that ludicrous gift giving boar, her grandfather for _purposely _getting her into this mess in the first place, the sword; damnable twisted hunk of metal for her hands, those blasted wizards for waking _him_ up, these wretched bonds for not coming undone, _and _because it felt so bloody_ good. _

Her howl went up like black swear and a sweet hymn.

Susan was, without a doubt, the best Hogswatch present he'd ever received Jonathan decided. He hadn't even gotten her knickers _off _yet. Letting out bursts of sharp giggles ,just so lost in awful victorious glee, Teatime almost missed the first stirring down the cellar over Susan's boisterous eruption. But not the second. He paused, the stilling alerting Susan even as she surfaced from her discomfiture.

"Oh good he's arrived" she made out his soft enthused words.

_He's arrived? Who? He was waiting for someone? Her Grandfather. Her Grandfather was here? Her Grandfather was here!_

Horrified at what Granddad seeing her in this position would entail. What he would assume, worse, what he would be right in assuming, the awkward encumbrance that would surely follow-

Susan didn't have to worry about any of that however because as Jonathan sat back he pulled her skirts back up. Fixing them about her legs, and draping them back over her shins as if he were covering up a display case.

Leaving her he pulled back on his coat, patting down his pockets to make sure his knives were in place.

Susan, thrown by his sudden disappearance mistakenly let her guard down. So that it was so very jarring when he sprung back over the chair. Knees bent between her thighs. Palms slapping the floor, propping arms at either side of her head holding him up above her.

"I'm afraid I have to take my leave now, my guest has arrived" before Susan could protest he bent his arms, face dropping down to meet hers.

His lips landed firmly upon her own. And while her mouth had been open, in mild shock, it had not been an invitation for him to slide his tongue in. Twirling the thing, clockwise this time, over and under her tongue and back over her lips.

She tried to use her balled hands to push away his chest, but he was gone. Rolling over into what appeared to be a cartwheel, he snatched up the sword exiting the kitchen.

Alone Susan released a long heaving sigh letting her eyelids droop. Tapped for strength, after the _very last _Hogswatch she ever intended to observe, she might have surrendered to sleep if not for the fluttering of wings overhead.

* * *

He had not expected to see Susan's house again so soon. She did like to be left alone and he respected that as he respected her mother's wishes. It was duty that called him here, a Mrs. Price. But perhaps after he finished he might drop in, he had meant to give her the card. Albert assured him that their Susan would appreciate the human gesture.

There was just the business of Mrs. Price.

Down in the cellar?

That did seem out of sorts. The maid was sprawled in one corner of the basement. Respectfully, he nudged the woman's shoulder with his scythe. Her translucent figure followed. Unaware of the imposing skeletal guest behind her she poured over her body frantically. "Oh I can't be sleeping, I've got to have supper ready-"

"Mrs. Price?**" **The servant turned at the sound of her name.

"Y-you! No I- stairs...I was-" her explanation died away with her spirit.

Inspecting the corpse Death could see that Mrs. Price had taken quite the spill. Her neck was bent at an odd right angle, arm twisted behind her, and her leg was shattered. There was a pathway in the layer of dirt coating the floor. She'd obviously been dragged. He followed the trail to the steps up to the house.

She mentioned stairs. But if she had fallen down the basement steps, why had she been in the corner. How did she get there? Who would have? Death turned to look around. There wasn't a lantern, but enough morning light filtered through a small window to make out the faint outline of other people. A small family tied up to the water pipes running all over the floor. A disconcerting sight indeed.

"Susan**"**

She was not among these humans, but this was her home. He climbed the stairs, opening the door to another grander stairwell. There was liquid pooling down over the final step. Crouching down he traced the substance with a long finger, red. Blood.

As he stood he met a belt buckle. Continuing to rise he found a black collar, a pale throat, and two mismatched eyes. Looking down from his full height Death regarded the young man imperiously. He was holding a sword. He was holding _his_ sword.

_Susan._

The man didn't appear to be surprised or distressedto see him, which was very out of sorts. "Hello, I'm Jonathan Te-" He started to welcome him, very rehearsed, but friendly.

"Mr. Te-A-Ti- Me**"** Dry, formal, and expectant. He had a vague knowledge of all mortals, but _this_ _one_ had no reason to be _here_.

Jonathan's eyes lit up immensely pleased "You got it right". Overcome with excitement he reached out to take Death's hand, shaking it eagerly, not at all bothered it was still covered in the blood Death had wiped off the steps.

"Of Course**"** He wanted to know where his granddaughter was. **"**And tell me, why you are here**?"**

"I'd be honored sir" Teatime smiled brightly, "I'm here to kill you".

* * *

The Raven landed, and perched, on her now clothed knee. "Susan? What are you doing?" The bird cocked its head to one side "You shouldn't sit like that, all the blood_s_ rushed to your head. You're as red as an apple you are".

She raised the rope wrapped tightly around her wrists. "If you'd be so kind". Surely out of patience and not about to get into it with the fowl.

"Whose done that then?" Before he could ask anymore inconvenient

questions Susan stuffed the knot into his beak. Getting the idea he got to work. "Sowhogotyou?" her savior croaked out between sharp bites and mouthfuls of rope.

"It was a man-" She winced as the beak caught her wound. Giving the raven his first peek at the sword's handiwork. The bird paused alarmed, un tucking his wings and agitatedly covering the kitchen floor with feathers.

"Your hands!"

"Mr. Teatime" clasping her hands together to avoid anymore knicks.

"I'll peck out his eyes" he finished freeing her and went to perch on something less Susan.

"Its just the one actually" Susan extended her arm up to her boot, pulling on the binds.

"That bastard, so he's got an eye patch then?"

"A false" she corrected exerting to finish freeing up her left foot.

"Ah! I hate that, inconsiderate blag. 'Like putting plastic fruit up on a table, just asking to choke somebody"

Susan shot him an unsettled look. "Right" she agreed if only to conserve her energy. The last tie to the chair was locked behind her. Exasperated, she threw her body to the right, rolling over, arms reaching backwards searching for the last knot.

* * *

**"**You think you can end me mortal**?"**

"Oh yes, I devoted my entire thesis to that very purpose" he cocked his head to one side recalling the assignment "Professor wasn't as confident about the subject, due to abstract symbolism, but I'm certain he had a change of heart after meeting you".

Not understanding the young man's rambling he asked the more obvious question **"**Are you the one who put those people**"** he pointed to the cellar door **"**down there**?"**.

"Indeed, I would have drugged them, but I didn't have any toxins at hand" Teatime looked back from the door at Death concerned "Did you find the maid alright?"

**"**Yes**"**

"I'm happy to hear that, I wanted to accommodate" he grinned back at him. The expression no more resembling a human's then Death's own grin.

**"**You have my sword**"** both a statement and a question.

"Why yes! Your Susan was kind enough-"

**"**She gave you the sword**?"**

"No" Teatime answered shaking his head, missing what that had to do with anything.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" the raven had managed to wear out his welcome in record time. Now she needed to find where _T_ time had gotten to...

"I came with your grandfather of course" it was hard to keep up with Susan when she kept pace like that, even with wings.

She froze turning to the bird direly, "Then he is here" and in case Teatime had just been rambling "Why?"

"The usual reason" he squawked conversationally.

"For how many?" she asked solemnly.

"He brought the one hourglass, but there were a whole mess of others tangled up down in the basement-"

Susan took off, not bothering to walk around the walls, in the direction of the cellar. As she neared the door the sound of clashing metal stole her attention. It seemed to be coming from up the stairs. She had no reason to fear for her Grandfather, but couldn't help a momentary bout of distress. For her only 'living' relative, and the Gaiter's furniture.

_The Gaiters_. Her body moved to the cellar door as she remembered why'd she come, hands flying to the knob forgetting what little need she had for it.

**"**The family is safe**"** Death descended the stairs to Susan, sword in hand. **"**Mrs. Price however**-"** he started, but Susan stilled him with a raised hand.

"I know" she noted the sword and cast a knowing glance upwards. "Mr. Teatime?".

"He tried to decapitate me**"** then adding unappreciative of the fact it went without saying **"**He was not successful**"**

"So the body is…?" asking hushed and insistent, afraid of what type of mess had been left behind and where.

**"**Down in the cellar**"**

"Teatime's body is down there?" Susan balked. Then what were the noises upstairs?

**"**I do not know where Mr. Teatime's body is**"**

"What-? How could you possibly-? _you killed him."_

**"**I did not**"** confused as to why she had come to that conclusion.

"Ho- We-…_Why not_?" At that moment she reminded herself of Twyla. Every time the young lady's hopes were dashed that she'd not beat a Bogey or tortured it with "the voice". It was all shamefaced immaturity, but honestly she had been hoping for some sort of justice.

**"**He vanished, I was unable to pursue him**"** Death propped his scythe up against the guard rail to brush indistinct powder off his robes. **"**He was carrying some type of…pixie dust**"**.

"I see" trying not to sound too let down, she motioned to the basement "I really have to-

**"**Oh, yes of course**"** Death stepped back just the slightest bit dejected at her dismissal. Picking up on the change in mood Susan reached out.

"Granddad I wanted**-**".

**"**Susan I wanted-**".**

The two shifted nervously at the twin interruptions. Confidence sparked by Susan's "Granddad" Death pulled out a folded over piece of paper, handing it to his granddaughter. **"**I've made you this Hogswatch card**"**.

She smiled weakly as to not seem ungrateful "Its...lovely Granddad", trying to find a positive remark about the design and failing, "Thank you".

**"**You wanted to say something**?"** pleased that the card had indeed been appreciated.

"That I might- that I intend to join you for supper"

Sharing the warm, if offbeat family moment, Susan's mind flew back to the Gaiters. She spun, hurriedly rushing down the stairs leaving her grandfather forgotten in the hall.

The Raven joined his master. Perching on his Scythe to watch Susan swiftly disappear down the dark stairwell.

"She didn't like your scribbly tissue then?"

* * *

Susan found her employers and their children near the right wall. The adults sported some faint bruising, but Twyla and Gawain didn't appear to be harmed. She crouched, tenderly kneading their scalps searching for bumps.

There was a masculine coughing off to her right. Head shooting up in alarm she found Mr. Gaiter awake. "Susan? Is that you?" he tried to sit up. Relieved to find him, and not the _other, _she stood.

"Yes Mr. Gaiter I-"

He did a double take at the sight of her "My god! What happened?".

She then remembered what she must _look like, _not having done anything to fix her appearance. Grandfather hadn't said anything…, but Grandfather really wouldn't have.

Unable to begin to explain what had happened Susan blurted out "Robbers!". An excuse with an easy enough motive; with the added bonus of not needing a thorough explanation.

"And you managed to fight them off by your self Ms. Sto Helit?, Good Show!"

She flinched trying to come up with a suitable _truth, _"No the… Authorities... arrived I really wasn't in any danger".

"Don't be modest my girl, I heard you screaming from down here" Mr. Gaiter gave her a complimentary smile very proud of their governess.

Susan blushed so hard she feared her birthmark might scorch clean away.

TBC.


	3. Half Past One

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their copyright holders.

There were bandages. There were stitches. There would be scars.

Susan examined the thick plain of gauze that had replaced her palms. The wrappings left index to pinky compressed. Now as fused and fixed as a dolls with the exception of uselessly opposable thumbs. Running them across the bandages she imagined what the scarring would look like beneath. It was not that she was a vain woman, not at all. There was just something about having a permanent reminder of _him_ that didn't sit well with her. Still vaguely irate with the humiliating ordeal.

It was the Gaiters who had insisted on a doctor, who in turn insisted she mummify her hands in the interest of a full recovery. She thought it a terrible impediment. A sentiment compounded when she found the dressings not only limited her ability to perform her duties, but they compelled the Gaiters to limit said duties.

If there was any silver lining behind the twin white puffed appendages it was that. The pity they inspired distracted the governess's employers and charges from their own recent terror.

The grownups had moved past the shady events of Hogswatch morning and mourned their maid in sprinting time. The children had made less progress, but were no longer concerned with the black eyed weirdo reappearing. Coping with the trauma in kind with their parents. In fact all traces of the cretinous twit were nearly gone. Aside from the obvious. Aside from her.

Even the incisions in her palms stung with indignation at the unspoken mention of their benefactor. Of course Susan soon realized the reignited pain came about from an unconscious attempt to clench her hands into fists.

Making her way to the scene of the crime her eyes gravitated to the center of the kitchen floor. Susan hoped that somehow her Grandfather managed to leave some kind of mark on him. She'd fantasize that his false got knocked from his head or perhaps he had cause for a pair now. Things she ought not be daydreaming about, but couldn't help it really.

She tore her gaze away, searching for any new point of interest in the now infamous room. Something to occupy her time with. Like knitting. Like reading. Like plotting revenge.

Like a grocery list.

Managing her way into her coat Susan was still uncertain about leaving the house unattended. Of course he couldn't possibly be daft enough to come back.

He couldn't possibly.

* * *

Full membership brought along a series of perks. Wearing black, higher pay, and a myriad of assignments. But along with them came a stricter adherence to a list of regulations. The most tedious of which had to be the required allotted reconnaissance. It seemed ludicrous to spend so much time with an assignment when the deed itself took up so little. Still, ever the professional he kept his watch on the window. Even as his mind was stationed somewhere else entirely.

He'd never been so off mark before. He'd many years of honing and invention towards his fatal faculties. It had taken none of them to swing that blade through Death's neck. Why the force should have lopped off that skull in one motion and left nothing behind but shoulders. Instead it went under one ear and out beneath the other. No severance to speak of. No ears for that matter. No meat whatsoever. He hadn't given much thought to the absence of vital bits. Of course without flesh all that was holding that head up was a spine post.

Death hadn't made for the definitive mark he'd so hoped he'd be. That anticlimacticism would have been disappointment enough atop his ill fated Tooth contract if he hadn't lost the sword as well.

Jonathan was left sorely empty handed. Of course the same could not be said for Susan. Now wasn't that a mood brightener. Perhaps there was a consolation prize there.

It was a far cry from standing at the edge of world dominion, but it made up some for being uppercut off that edge of world dominion.

Still it had taken some of the color out of his work. After targeting The Tooth Fairy, the Hogfather, and Death - masterminding the demise of a banker paled.

His eye scanned in familiarity from one corner of the mark's street to the other. As it had done for several passes. A single audience member lulled to boredom.

Predictably there was nothing of interest to see off to the left. That was always a safe bet regardless considering he could see nothing to the left at any given moment. Not until with a pivot of his head left became right and even still there was nothing over there that was terribly fascinating either. That was until coming back around right became left again, and then right once more. Which was suddenly so very terribly much to his interest as right was now Susan.

He began his approach on sight coming in at an odd angle just behind her peripheral.

The foilsome nanny had appeared at the end of the block. Had even been crossing over to his side of the street. He fell into step with her at a pace that threatened to overtake her own. If it didn't bring him smack into her back. But Jonathan adjusted to allow himself precisely the safest distance with Susan still in view. The view of her coat as black and narrow as the skirt not so much as flitting about her legs. Momentarily the urge to peel them back up and over was reborn. Now with her standing up, to enjoy his prior angle, he'd have to do a handstand. Or. Teatime tilted his head a degree.

Wasn't this a pleasant surprise she was without the sword. Not that Jonathan hadn't missed his new friend, but if he couldn't play with it he'd hate to have to watch someone else get to. Even Susan. By the same token how wonderful it was to see Susan again!

Alone.

When the street thug grabbed her arm she was prepared to throttle him before he could make away with the contents of her bag or pockets. Facing her thief she was gob smacked. Jonathan Teatime was something that looked more out of place in daylight then the moon and the bloody stars.

She'd been working up for a loud physical retaliation when his speed made another appearance. Teatime went for the wrists, taking hold and shaking her. Then immediately holding her at arms length in customary _"Oh let me have a look at you"_ fashion.

Moving his grip to her hands he found them wads of bandages.

He gave a small smile as he looked up to which she reared back. But with him still in possession of her she only managed to go round in a circle. Teatime continued the motion sending them into a lopsided ring around the rosy. They circled twice before he stopped stone still releasing her to unwind from the cyclone of his embrace into the wall's.

"You're doing well" His sunny sentiment seemed almost heartbreakingly lost in the face of the sour bent figure propped up against the storefront. "They didn't have to amputate them, I'm so pleased".

"Touch me once more and your's should be so lucky" .

Teatime blinked bemused flexing his healthy digits for her inspection "What ever for Susan?". His eyes gleamed undercutting his half hearted attempt at innocence.

"Idiot, this time-" She ground out finally rising to her full height.

"Thank you for your concern though, I should extend the same then?" He offered her the crook of his arm by forcefully looping it through her own. They were brought suddenly face to face before he swung himself around. The two brought just as suddenly side by side, in perfect form for a stroll arm and arm.

When she tried to extricate her arm with her stuffed mitt he simply tightened the circle of his bent arm.

"If you think we're on for a second go of this in broad-" She punctuated her cool and collected demand by exerting as much reckless force right as she could. The other pedestrians given no warning to make way for the woman. "-daylight you're mistaken sir".

The assassin remained glued at her side making no challenge to Susan's abrupt change of direction. Jonathan allowed her to jerk them slanted down the street while her right hand dug between his bicep and her own. "Don't be so nervous, I only mean to help you".

Perhaps he did, not having thought this encounter through past 'there she was, here he came'. His intentions toward Ms. Sto Helit were all rather confusing. Through much thought on the subject any remaining bitterness towards his defeat had resettled around her. That is to say not quite _towards_-

"Nervous? After my Grandfather shooed you out the backdoor like a rat?" Susan halted her forward trajectory entirely "Mr. T_ea_t_ime _I'm perfectly at ease with you_, _but I really do have to take _my_ leave now".

"As you should be Miss" His quiet voice soaking up the taste of any remaining bitterness as the words left his mouth "But I couldn't possibly let you alone now. Someone might take advantage"

"Advantage?" Her breath escaping incredulously along with the word.

His left hand found her right, still buried between them trying to relax his hold, and squeezed. Jonathan felt no need to name her wound again. Moreover he didn't need to name her wound to enjoy what he did feel.

That someone could take advantage. That he could. That he had.

Her teeth set and brow tensed nearly imperceptibly. Trace yet undeniable proof he had won some small victory in the Hogswatch war. By the look of pain on her face they were nearly even. Why _poor_ Susan. He was on his way to forgiving her entirely.

Poor Susan immediately retrieved her offended extremity and put it to work shoving at his shoulder. Stinging palm be damned and damned if she was going to let on how much it was. "The last thing I need from you is a chaperoning". She succeeded in keeping her temper level and some gravel out of her growl.

"Escorting" He corrected. "I'll see you home" Jonathan began leading the way this time "I know the-" She redirected a good shove to his throat cutting him short altogether.

Teatime caught that hand before his breath. He roughly returned it to her right side by reaching his left arm across her and kept it there by painfully pressing it into her own waist. This brought the two closer. Her cheek against his shoulder, his elbow against her ribs.

Their wild movements and tight proximity gave the other street goers reason to give a larger berth to the pair. The strange couple appearing both to be melding together and pulling apart.

Now he found himself less confused and more annoyed with his intentions towards Ms. Sto Helit. Annoyed and sore. Annoyed by and sore from. And distracted.

He hated being annoyed and distracted from his goals. What was more annoying and distracting was that the annoying distraction was the goal in this case. Susan. She somehow managed to both attract and repel. Usually with violence. But that was something too.

Which was becoming a familiar dance between them- not familiar in a tiresome way. Not much of a dance either. It was more like a game. The kind of game that was awfully fun to play, but a fight kept breaking out at.

It was entirely unfair that she expected him to be engaged in both properly at the same time. How she expected him to enjoy her company while she tried to yank both his arms out of their sockets.

Amongst the tugging of dark coats the grocery list's stark white parchment made a louder impression than its own literal crinkling. Wrested from waiting in Susan's pocket and fluttering down between them.

Jonathan followed. The both of them dropping to curtsey closer to the sidewalk.

Even after lowering himself, and by extension themselves, to reach the note he had to consider his own reach. The odds of either of them prying it off the pavement in their current configuration were slim. What with both Susan's hands occupied with Teatime and said Susan occupying 100 percent of one arm and 50 percent of the crook of his remaining arm.

He had to resort to reaching with his forearm through Susan's elbow and his own to just scrape his fingertips over the ground. Jonathan still kept incredible balance for the both of them considering most of his concentration was on picking up the paper and none of Susan's was directed at either cause. Instead focused on incrementally lessening her resistance.

She might have been so generous as to spare some concentration to his task. If Susan could have predicted that once it became clear to him that he couldn't reach his quarry he'd forget about balancing altogether.

After his eighth attempt to angle and grasp for it failed he simply let them drop to their knees.

To get loose from this man from her feet was trying. Lifting herself up away from him bent backwards and bound up in ropes had been impossible. Susan was right side up now though and only really bound up with him. Joints shouldn't be harder to break than knots. She was feeling his go lax in turn as her struggle calculatingly died down.

Watching his struggle Susan had to wonder what part in his revenge this mundane endeavor played. Had he been waiting for her? Really not fool enough to try to attack her at home again, but fool enough to try it out on the street?

His strategy throughout their interactions - the one that was hardest to contend with and infuriatingly easiest for him to employ- to act without warning so she had to be perpetually on notice was simple to adopt for herself. So while he tried to unfold her grocery list one handed she un tucked her legs one at a time from beneath her. With both her legs now bent before her Susan was ready to stand at once. Up and out of his hold.

Of course the problem with both of them acting without warning was that when he decided to stand -at precisely that moment- her bent legs were left to unfurl in mid air. Down and out of his hold she fell in a heap. Her plan proving at once to be a miscalculation and a stroke of genius.

For better still Teatime didn't appear to notice her lateral escape, instead pleased with the full use of his extremities returned to him. It was enough of a blessing that she was damn near ready to crawl.

Unfolding with both hands and reading with one eye Jonathan gleaned for himself what Susan's mystery document was about. He turned to wave it at her in triumph. Although even as his enthusiasm came as a reflex his mind simultaneously wasn't that blown away by a grocery list.

Not finding her right or left (or right again) he finally caught sight of her still on the ground. On hands and knees slowly making her way across the sidewalk.

Susan knew she'd been cheated on time when his shadow cast itself over her. The involuntary manifestation of his presence managing to fall as heavy as his ropes or person. Or maybe with how soon after his touch followed she couldn't differentiate.

She was pulled up by her waist straight away. Her line of sight barely having time to adjust from the cracks in the pavement to the shop windows of the street before being replaced with crinkled handwriting.

Susan moaned in protest to which he pulled the parchment taught with a pop. Teatime holding the sheet of paper out in front of her from his place behind her back reassured her. "Don't worry, I've got it".

Sure he wasn't oblivious enough of her animosity to actually believe she was down there looking for her list and not trying to flee. But as that was so rude of Susan and as Jonathan was a gentleman he glossed over her poor manners.

He didn't even expect her to be grateful for it. The same as he didn't expect her to give him due credit for not simply letting her carry on with her bum up in the air like that.

She ducked under his hands half expecting him to enclose them over her shoulders. When he parted them to let her through she was genuinely surprised. The assassin didn't move to recapture her. No, he'd returned to studying the list.

Susan didn't stop to marvel at this a second more than it demanded. She took off.

It was not like her to ever take the latter in the order of fight or flight. This reaction overrode instinct. It was a reflex she was quite recently developing in the presence of Mr. Teatime. Despite it's resemblance to cowardice she much preferred it to one other reaction she'd had in his presence. One she'd loathe to have become a reflex with how much she'd been subject to physical contact with him already today.

This wasn't a permanent solution she knew. She needed to deal with him. Susan didn't have a destination, already turned around from home. Which clearly was out of the question regardless. She couldn't return to her charges house with him on her heels. Any old destination would do. So long as there were no witnesses.

Her mind arrived on a reasonable motive and method of implementation. Now she needed an implement. Any old object would do. None however were provided at that moment. Since when were there no sticks or stones lying around? Damn this city. Since when had she not had the good sense to bring something appropriately blunt along? Damn herself.

Oh hell she was on main street. She could just buy one.

Shopping had been this outings objective to begin with. Her hand-in-cast was put through the very next door handle she passed. Susan needed to have a weapon as quickly as possible. Quicker than him. Him.

So busy preparing for the hunt she'd forgotten all about the prey. The shop door closed behind her. Susan whipped around fast enough to watch it shut in her face.

Teatime didn't come rushing past. She'd only gotten a few blocks. She moved to peer out the storefront window, but he wasn't where he'd been left either.

As claustrophobic as his close proximity was his absence now felt just as suffocating. Had it been a mistake to let him out of sight? Teatime could be anywhere now. He could be on his way to the Gaiters.

She had an armory at home, but was still determined to keep this off her home turf. A term she hadn't been able control on Hogswatch. Susan's eyes quickly scanned the shelves around her for a sharp object and it wasn't long before one came into view. She was still at a disadvantage wielding weapons, but she'd just as soon wrap a knife handle around her fist.

Red Riding Hood would quite literally cut the Big Bad Wolf off at the path this time. Closing in on the clerk with his own menacingly gleaming merchandise Susan used both hands to slam a common kitchen knife onto the counter.

It was followed immediately by a half gallon of milk, a dozen eggs, one stick of butter, half a pound of apples-

The rest of the groceries piled up in front of her as if they appeared from thin air. The shop keep was left with no other explanation himself before a man formed beside the female customer. Now that was a much more rational excuse for the food stuffs.

How the male customer managed to come out from thin air remained a mystery.

She did not have time to be relived Teatime wasn't making his way to slaughter her household. This had to be done before he could gain the upper hand again. Susan put her vital moments to better use picking up the knife. Scooping up the knife. Swatting it across the counter. Bloody hell.

It seemed every attempt was doomed. The woman could feel the adrenaline bleed from her. The last few drops fueling a restless need. In Susan this manifested as a jaded desire to see this latest fiasco end. Just end. Already feeling ridiculous for it.

Mercifully it wasn't Teatime that disarmed her this time. No, it was the cashier. Dropping her salvation into a paper bag as he punched in it's, she was damn certain, overpriced cost.

Before it could occur to pay for that disappointing purchase, let alone the milk, Jonathan was handing over the funds. They both waited for his change.

Why not? After that last mad dash to stop him Susan was becoming resigned to waiting for his violence to erupt.

She just wanted him to get to the point. Enough with the pretenses, pretending to be escorting her home, helping her with errands. Last time he came claiming to want to play with her or pay her a visit whichever the hell it was. He must've known then she wasn't the least bit convinced. She was increasingly confident he wasn't a man capable of bluffing. Or caring to. Though he'd snuffed out when she'd been.

But when had he proven himself to be rational? Thus far he'd always feigned being cordial in the same breath as his death threats. Always expecting her to receive him with casual norms. He might as well have been deaf to how loud his actions spoke over his words. Or maybe he just believed she was? When she'd been witness to this murderer running her through with a sword, batting her around a kitchen, and sliding his finge-

Susan had to find a way out of this debacle. She'd already had once before! Hadn't she?

But he'd left of his own accord then. Or Grandfather's. Or his own accord for Grandfather. Before that she'd been similarly at his mercy.

No, he'd tied her up first. Only after she'd been knocked out cold. After Teatime had managed to get the sword away from her. She recounted the battle in her head. Her body had taken enough notes during the scuffle in the form of bruises. The cuts on her hands. It still infuriated her.

How had that blasted git gotten the better of her? She'd been infuriated. And why? He thwarted her halting of time.

Of course! Now just as furious at herself. There she was trying to beat the bleeding clock around him. Figuratively she could cripple it.

He had no token of Death's power at his disposal this time. And Susan would have loved that to be the detail she overlooked. When honestly it hadn't occurred to her. That while she needn't snap her fingers to freeze time, without the use of them she'd all but forgotten that she could.

Of course that was this bastards fault as well.

Jonathan recognized the look this time. Her features beaming with confidence. An obnoxious 'knowing something he did not' confidence. He recognized the one that came after too. A much more appealing dawning of failure. It formed much faster this time.

To his painful disappointment it wasn't followed by the wash of light or blizzard of hair he remembered. Susan's coming at him headlong with force came right on schedule though.

She came crashing into his chest. This time she wasn't trying to reclaim a sword, just beat him senseless. Her fists landed generously about his torso. What did it matter where she hit him? There wasn't a target on him less deserving. More to the point she didn't know where to start.

What was it now? What was he holding now? How did he manage to once again sidestep her abilities?

Teatime was puzzling these very same questions with Susan. They were more giddily asked across his mind, but if it was any consolation to her he pondered them with a good deal more physical pain. It wouldn't have been much of a consolation as she was forced to inflict that physical pain with her own wounded palms.

But she would have been pleased to find that fact created more problems for him.

Susan had small hands. Lovely things that he'd been more than happy to slice open. Those slices however were now wearing an armor of tough gauze. Those small hands doubled in size like a pair of white boxing gloves.

He was even having trouble catching them as they powdered his chest. Powder.

Teatime saw them. Flecks of light. At once he had a good idea of what lucky talisman he had in his possession this time. After that it took the smallest fraction of investigating to confirm his suspicion.

Sparks, here and there dusting up from his coat wherever Susan's blows hit. He recognized them. Ernie's fairy dust. He was sure of it. He remembered what it looked like when he'd thrown it in Death's face and the shape of the metal tin he could feel Susan beating into his skin. Teatime covered his mouth and eyes with his sleeves as it became equally harder to see through the sparks and not breathe them in.

Jonathan would have shared this information, but couldn't catch her attention before he felt the lid and the container come apart. This time when Susan's fist landed glitter dusted up from his pocket in a cloud.

The cashier who'd politely minded his business as the lady began pummeling her gentleman friend at once started hollering. It was one thing for customers to rough up each other, they were always right after all, but another when they started roughing up his store. He couldn't be sure how much of that he'd gotten out of his mouth before the sparkly mess they were throwing around got in.

Susan had taken a sizeable amount of that sparkly mess into her lungs as well. She'd been arriving at the same conclusion as Teatime, but remembered too late her Grandfather's comment about his carrying fairy dust.

Teatime watched her convulse. One bandaged hand trying to prevent more dust from getting down her throat as the other furiously beat what had already managed to out from her chest. As he heard her coughing become increasingly more alarming something finally gripped him. A deeply troubling realization.

He was losing all of his fairy dust.

His hand reached into his pocket to pull out the disassembled vessel. Keeping the tin's lid 'just so' Jonathan's fingers worked to brush back in all the freed substance from his coat, the counter, the floor, (mixed results) the air, and of course Susan.

She'd been fighting for oxygen when Teatimes hands were suddenly beating her back. His ministrations went some way to helping free up her airway. The efforts were diverted away quite quickly to her arms, sides, and hair.

Susan didn't pay much mind to what else he was up to as she regained the ability to breathe. Until after patting her down he took to blowing off the remaining dust.

Her boot reared back with more skill than Binky could have hoped to been born with.

Satisfied that he'd collected as much back from Susan as was wise to, Jonathan turned (hopping) his attention to the clerk. He had been coughing just as fitfully. He'd certainly have coughed up the rest of his dust by now.

In fact he had! The man was up and throwing open the door. A fine idea since the store was stuffy and Teatime appreciated that he'd waited until after he was done gathering up.

The shop keep gulped down four of five helpings of air before he turned to expel them at these one time customers.

Teatime was taken aback when he heard the "GET OUT!". He'd already paid more on those groceries than he ever normally would have if he didn't want to avoid looking cheap in front of a lady.

Susan was appalled this man took her for some rowdy consumer and not obviously a hostage. When the shop keep began waving his arms around and trying to physically remove them she was almost keen on leaving the store without Teatime in tow. Of course with him going mad after a madman like that she couldn't in good conscience.

She stepped between the two men.

Jonathan however wasn't interested in retaliation. He gathered up the grocery bags and tried ushering Susan out the door. This was difficult with the man behind her blocking their way. When she balked at his efforts he used a leg to insist. First to insist Ms. Sto Helit step out of the shop keep's way . Then to insist the shop keep make way for both of them.

It didn't take much convincing to get Susan out after that.

* * *

Now out in public Susan was once again left alone with her unwanted companion.

He'd just paid for her groceries. She'd attacked him and he hadn't sought immediate retribution. He'd somewhat just exited an establishment after being asked. Maybe he was crazy enough to civil.

"Well" She began still trying to adjust her eyes to this killer bundling brown paper bags in his arms. "Thank you. I think that'll -"

"Oh it was nothing, no trouble at all" He was actually smiling pleasantly. What could be called pleasant compared to the other masks of criminally insane glee he'd shown her.

"Right, so-". He could take that kindness out in the street. Face down.

"I just couldn't have stood back and watched you try to get it done on your own". He shook his head off to the side, voice laced with pity. And humor.

"How altruistic of you." How much pandering to this game would give him his fill? She already knew the answer to that. How much could she stand.

"Wasn't it just?" Teatime gave her one nod before turning off to the side to continue the gesture agreeing with himself. "It was up to me to be the better person".

She supposed if she could manage to play along with his rules some he'd have to either let her win or toss the board up in the air and show his true colors.

"You shouldn't have, really" She meant that. Susan didn't know how much insincere sincerity she could muster in the face of his smug charity.

There was no doubt in her mind he believed himself the better person.

"I know" He saw what she was doing, but failed to appreciate she had a point. "But still a good thing I bumped into you".

"Yes, what ever would have become of me-" Susan couldn't even look him in the eye for that one, facing the nonexistent audience he'd been directing his responses to.

"You didn't even remember your note". Teatime managed to sound sincerely concerned. "Of course even with your hands, your brain can't be helped" 'Oh you poor thing' without losing the essence of 'you absent minded twit'.

"Well I'd forgotten I left it with you" _forgotten to leave it lodged down your windpipe._ Enough was enough Susan reached to take the groceries from him and put an end to this argument. "Wasn't necessary, but all the same". None of it was.

Jonathan gladly consented by shoving the bags into her arms. Susan had to move fast to keep the contents from toppling out onto the sidewalk. Teatime casually slid his hands into his pockets.

"Really?" Jonathan peered inside the bags. "You didn't remember a single thing off that list".

Susan rolled her eyes and genuinely turned to leave in exhaustion "Sure I did, it's all here. Great job all around".

"I did" Teatime removed one hand from his pants to slip into a bag. When it surfaced, from the very bottom and beneath all visible purchases, it came up with her knife. "This wasn't even on it". Teatime turned the handle up. He turned the blade a few times so she could appreciate the serious sharpness of it's edge and her serious reflection.

"I-" The gravity of the threat actually settled on her in earnest. She made one last hopeless attempt to approach him in the context of the game. "It just occurred to me".

"Ah" He stepped around her to stand by her side. His eyes had never left the knife, not even to gage her reaction. "That explains why you were so-"

"Focused." She offered.

"Excited." He corrected.

Her spine straightened as upright as the kitchen knife held up for her benefit.

"Good taste" He really did approve. "There wasn't anything interesting on that list anyway". With one step he was behind her.

Susan prepared to let the bags slip and defend herself. Teatime was faster, forcing her to hold them up by wrapping one arm around both of hers

This situation wasn't a game. Humoring him from his viewpoint had been a foolish idea to entertain.

Yet even as the danger grew Susan recognized this is what she had wanted. Well, it was the contingency plan. Handling him without the pretense.

He had her pinned to him in a much more demanding hold then before. Out in front of him as opposed to at his side. She just wouldn't stay still today. More to the point she didn't appear to be all there. The woman wasn't really listening to him. Preoccupied. Daydreaming. Ignoring him. He thought after he'd assisted her it wasn't asking too much to have her attention. So he asked.

The blade's impression could barely be felt on the outside of her coat before it had passed through her clothing. Jonathan had his own knives. But this, like Death's sword had been, was a gift from Susan. Her suggestion.

The flat of it was pressed against her thigh. Her skin. The tip slid under her stocking.

She felt violated.

He felt it was a more personal way to remind Susan of her femoral artery.

Susan wasn't impressed with his ideas for her tool. Which were pointless diversions from her death.

"I would of ran that across your throat" She wasn't a murderess, but she'd never respect laziness. "**Out **with it".

Her head turned to angle her face up as much as she could to the man at her back. Which was very little. But her eyes found him, rolling up to fix on him fiercely. Pitch black irises reflecting violet from within.

"Why remove it now?" Why indeed. Her tool had worked spectacularly. Teatime had her undivided attention now. Susan came off much more sincere when her blood was boiling. "It got you-"

"What do you want?" If he thought she sounded genuine before. "Here. Now. With me. Spit _that_ out."

"Haven't I-?You've forgotten already?" They were back to square one? "To escort you home" he reminded her. Maybe Susan really was a flake. "You really aren't well are you?"

He tsked three times before the sound skittered into giggles.

"You really aren't bright." She spat cringing away from the sounds stabbing into her ear. "I remember telling you we weren't going anywhere".

Teatime remembered that tone and forgot his giggling entirely. Reprimanding and corrective.

"Why do you think you get to tell me where to go?". He pulled her back into his chest, the grocery bags crushing hers in the process. Jonathan felt he had more say in where the governess went.

"I don't care where you go" Susan couldn't make room for her lungs to expand in front of her, leaving only two options. Make room behind her by pressing back into him or asking him to lift the pressure. Neither desirable. She hoped relenting to him might inspire him to. "I don't presume to tell you where to go".

"I know." The smile was back in his voice like it had never left. Taking her statement as a mutual agreement he took a step forward, pushing Susan forward with him.

But she had her way. His hold relaxed. The knife disappeared.

At first Susan's feet had no more control than dust in front of a broom. But once she fell in line with his pace, between his steps, Jonathan moved her off to his side.

There were making quite some distance away from the store Susan noted grimly. She hadn't a choice in the matter, tethered to him by one of his damnable limbs. She did note reluctantly that arm took some of the weight of the groceries. Groceries she regretted as nothing else in recent memory.

"So what brought you out today?" _Was I walking into a trap this morning?_ "Before we bumped into each other". _Or did I deliver myself to you all on my own?_

"I'm working". He sounded professional there. Like a man with a job, and not a homicidal compulsion.

"But you have time for this?" Ever the governess she couldn't help pointing out the error.

"Well. I am entitled to a break." Jonathan wasn't one hundred percent on what the guild had to say about that. But he certainly didn't see why they'd be opposed.

"Of course you are, what else did unions march for?" The sarcasm would have been easily recognizable if she wasn't genuinely amused.

"Exactly-". Teatime honestly misconstrued the enthusiasm in her voice.

"So murderers could take a breather between-" Susan still did take exception to the idea of murderers enjoying labor privileges.

"I'm not a murderer Susan, I'm an assassin". Teatime took greater exception to his title being confused.

"An assassin is not a murderer?" This sadist wanted to split hairs over what synonym for killer she used? "How so?".

"Assassin's provide a public service." They also had degrees and paychecks, but so did plenty of other professions. He took more pride in the actual work.

"Is that it?" Susan had a hard time taking Teatime as a man of the people. _Does he really take himself for one?_ "Just what kind of service do you think you provide for the public?".

"People want other people dead, we carry that out" Jonathan gathered from Susan's dubious expression his point hadn't sunk in. "Without Assassins people would just go about murdering people".

"Right, of course" She really wasn't safe with him. She'd known he took pleasure in his crimes, now she knew he thought of them as civic acts. "Well if it's so important you really should get back to it, shouldn't you?"

"Oh this assignment? It's just a formality really. I have to keep an eye on him a total of twenty four hours".

"Well, that does seem a ridiculously painful waste of time" Susan didn't make any effort to sound sympathetic to his plight. The target was a him. Out of twenty four hours how many did he have left?

"I'll say, a corpse doesn't do much in the course of a day". This clearly was a great imposition on him.

"Corpse? They sent you to knock off a dead man?" Susan snapped at him, not sure if she was annoyed that he'd be such a fool, or his employers, or that the poor late bastard wasn't going to be taking Teatime off her hands in this lifetime.

"Mr. Sullivan has only been a corpse as of last night" What did Susan take him for? The undead didn't need to be knocked off. Then again if he put some thought to it…

"What was the point of standing outside his home watching him rot then?" Had she really voluntarily walked into this mess? He'd only been out stalking the deceased before she came traipsing along.

"I know. This part of the contract is hardly-" Susan actually had some fairly decent insight on these matters. That is she agreed with him. Maybe if Death's granddaughter spoke to the guild-

"So they asked for it?" There was actually a contract that stipulated this madness. Negotiations. Price haggling. Signatures.

"They wanted him watched for precisely 24 hours, inhumed, and some sort of…" He didn't want to bore her with industry jargon "keepsake. To remember it by".

"How sentimental. You mean a body part." Was he really being cute about this?

"I agree how saccharine" he shook his head in distaste. "I gave them the kidneys" Teatime cheered up at that.

"Both?" What could they possible want with both? She'd seen all manner of blood and guts before. The term keepsake suddenly brought about visions of gift wrapped carnage.

"Copies. Makes filing easier." He didn't seem to understand what they planned to do with those kidneys either. "I got that out of the way by three"

"Well done". How lucky for her he had time to spare.

"Done? I still had to return to the task of killing Mr. Sullivan and then this visual report" Jonathan trailed off. They'd since past Mr. Sullivan's apartment. He turned to look back down the street.

"Was that all?" Of course he wouldn't see those things going in any particular order. Susan pictured how the mad man would have gone about the business as he didn't appear to be paying attention to her now. "Messy" She mused aloud.

"There is that" Jonathan nodded bringing his attention back to her "but for an additional fee-"

"People can pay to have the whole mess swept under a rug then?" She couldn't imagine him on his hands and knees scrubbing away.

"Yes of course" Ms. Sto Helit seemed to be taking a genuine interest in his work. "Are you looking to have someone inhumed Susan?"

''Just how much would you ask to depose yourself?" Maybe hiring an assassin was the answer. They couldn't have any worse luck with it.

"I don't know if that would be proper considering who your Grandfather is" He shook his head eyes boring into her as she watched the street. "No, no a gross abuse of power".

"Perfectly permissible for you to depose of him though?" There was no conflict of interest that applied to her. Not unless her Grandfather was seeing her victims off first.

"I'm licensed" He immediately dismissed any of her righteous anger at his attempt on the life of her Granddad. Ms. Sto Helit had brought up a much more sensitive issue to him. "But your Grand father should be investigated".

"What?" The twit was incensed she found.

"I could seek out council. He definitely out stepped his-" Teatime was ready to launch into a rant.

"You stole his sword an-!" Susan needed to stop their march to holler, Teatime cooperatively halted to counter hysterically.

"It didn't work! Right through him! The con! The hypocrite!" His free arm gestured widely nearly hitting several pedestrians who proceeded to cross the street. "I was ch-"

"You should not have gone after us in the first-!" She twisted to face him irate.

"Oh I know you wouldn't have been so unreasonable Susan" Just like that he was composed. Jonathan didn't want her to think he thought the same about her. He knew she'd bleed, reaching out to give her a few reassuring pats on the shoulder.

"Unreasonable?" Her tone had calmed greatly as well. Susan was less than touched, but in awe of his gall. Allowing him to start them off on their way again.

"Not that your completely innocent showing up like that…" He didn't want her to think she was off the hook either. Susan still had a lot to make up for.

"You're the one who dragged me into it, sir. At point". She obstinately motioned with her chin to the knife she knew was hiding in his other sleeve.

"You're pleasant company all things considered" Jonathan wasn't dissuaded by her temperament from being honest. As truthful he could be. Susan wasn't always good company, but the fun in that had been pleasing at times.

"Considering you had to have me bound and tortured?" She struggled for show, demonstrating how he still had her pleasant company against her will.

"That was business. I had a job to do" He recalled now that women could be so very hard to please. Hadn't he given her enough attention that night?

"You were trying to murder an anthropomorphized holiday. That is my business" Susan suddenly wanted to regain her official capacity over that matter. It had been business and she didn't care at all for the way his eyes seemed to be imploring her to some end.

"Your family's business doesn't cue in until after" He really did feel there had been some unethical intervention on the part of Death's office.

"After revenge for that then?" It was a half hearted accusation tossed off as she turned away from his scrutiny. Teatime might have had the one eye, but there was definitely something off about the dummy in his empty socket. Perhaps it was that the right gave you such an unsettling look, and the left made you watch how unsettled you were.

"Why would you think that?" Jonathan was plenty set on vengeance, but he didn't want that to effect the enjoyment of his company. It baffled him how so few sought it.

"You know what? No reason." No reason he could comprehend. "You've been lovely. Now if you're not here for retribution, why don't you be a gentleman and take your leave now" Bugger off. She couldn't appeal to his reason, but his vanity?

"Where?" Susan was lying about all that. Most of the people he associated with lied just the same. Jonathan really didn't give a damn how they felt as long as they behaved as if they gave a damn what he felt. The counterfeit sentiment from Susan was welcomed on one hand, but on the other…

"To-Where ever you please" Had that actually worked? Would he actually go if she asked nicely? Susan made a conscious decision to annunciate his surname how he wished for the first time. "Mr. Teatime. It was good of you to take me this far." She threw a Mr. in front of it and thanked him again disingenuously for good measure. "I really do have to insist I see myself the rest of the way."

"But we've almost arrived" His words now held a strangely horrifying melody. She'd said his name and all at once Susan's counterfeit sentiment became incomparable. If she'd had called him by his first…

The gravity of his expression had Susan both unconsciously and consciously wanting to take a step away from him. As nothing before had compelled Ms. Sto Helit in all her years. But what was behind her but his shoulder? What was in front of her but his arm?

Teatime was studying her. The more engrossed he became, the more all consuming his presence. Susan abruptly broke off their eye contact needing to end his scrutiny and escape it. Nothing that met her eyes put her any more at ease.

"I don't live on this street" She didn't live anywhere near this street. How had he managed to turn them around this much? Hadn't he told her they'd almost arrived h-?

"You said you didn't want to go home" Susan's moods.

"I didn't want to go with you" She drew the words out and reestablished eye contact, trying to eek out his intentions. What destination he had in mind.

"But you said I could go wherever I wanted." Why was she so keen on going home now? She'd talked him out of that ages ago.

They turned a corner and Susan tore her eyes from his again. They found the path stopped rather abruptly a few yards ahead.

Susan pulled back as hard as she could. As far as back as she could move both of them. She anticipated the resistance he would present behind her, throwing her back into it. Teatime anticipated her resistance and released her simultaneously. She stumbled backwards before the weight of the groceries tipped her forward again.

The bags poured out of her hold. Food, canned and otherwise, was scattering at their feet. Susan had some trouble finding the footwork to avoid the chaos, but Teatime didn't miss a step. She'd only just turned back to the opening of the alleyway when he closed in.

They were going to collide.

"Mr. Teati-" The immediate objection was more frantic than fearful. Her mind calculating the danger of the man toppling them both faster than the danger he himself presented. Arms outstretched in front of her.

"Jonathan" he offered just as quickly as her plea, crashing into her, grabbing her shoulder blades and continuing to move them to the end of the alley.

They really should be on a first name basis at this point. Jonathan decided he'd like to get to that basis by the end of this.

He hadn't had them all the way to the wall before he felt her hands press on his shoulders. It was hard to distinguish wrapped as they were, but he definitely felt her thumbs dig into the ends of his collar bone.

Teatime actually took this hint to stop, entirely missing that it applied to him as well. He'd paused before sliding his hands from her shoulders to her waist.

Susan was catching her breath and still had him held out at arms lengths when he began. His hands slid down under her rib cage, in and out of the curve of her form, and didn't stop until the flare of her hips. She couldn't process what good it did him to change his hold on her. The touch was intimate, but took seconds, too quick for the governess to suspect anything.

Her face was blank when a hand moved to the small of her back. Then a prick. The tip of the knife poking out of his cuff. She stiffened at the threat, on alert once more.

Really he hadn't paid much mind to the knife in his sleeve. He had twelve more tucked about his person. He just didn't pay much mind to whether it pricked her either. Whether she was afraid he might or not.

When she'd touched him he had only responded. Susan had a nice figure. Teatime didn't explore it much more than running his hands over it in one pass. Really what caught him was her face.

She'd been blinking at him vaguely questioning when he placed that hand around her back. It wasn't really a pressing matter to get through to her. He hadn't felt her bum yet. When her kitchen knife made an appearance just as his palm had arrived at her tailbone though…

Her vacant expression changed. Eyes lidded, mouth closed. The lashes fluttered as her mouth gasped open. Her shoulders drew up, her back arching away from one hand and in to the other.

That had been his invitation before. Hogswatch he had to run and just meant to give her a peck before she'd made that shape with her lips. A perfect oval folding into points at the corners of her mouth.

Susan hadn't meant an invitation on either occasion. Her surprise at his attempt to kiss her this time came just as honestly. She'd still been trying to predict where his tactic for intimidating her was going when she recognized the shape of his mouth.

He'd leaned his face forward despite the fact he still had Susan's arms preventing him from doing so. His expression frighteningly familiar to the one he'd held above her on Hogswatch.

Teatime didn't purse his lips or close his eyes to kiss. No, the man kept them both open and opened his mouth just so. Open just so, tightly, with his teeth parted just enough.

She immediately drew back. Her back brushed against the knife, and reflex brought her hips forward. Grateful for the space still between them, she reinforced her pressure on his shoulders. Trying to push him away without pushing herself against the blade again.

Jonathan undeterred tried to use his possession of her waist to pull her closer. When her arms still kept him at bay he tugged harder, succeeding in bringing Susan's lower half closer while her upper body held strong.

As strong as it could with her now in danger of falling backward. She bent her neck back, looking upward and fighting to keep her elbows from bending. He continued to wrench her towards him and she had to scrabble to keep her ground.

She was winning that battle, but her hands lost their firm position. Now closer to his collar bone then his shoulder blades.

Teatime frustrated when he couldn't gain leverage tried to remember how he'd managed a kiss before. Why before Susan hadn't made this so difficult. They'd been face to face and her knees had been closer to him then her chest then too…

He pictured her face that night again. The Flustered breathing, the parted lips, the shiny tiles. Tiles. Oh that's right the floor… He considered pushing them both to the ground before he noticed the bricks behind her.

He charged ahead into the wall. The force surely would have had the knife in Teatime's hand in Susan's spine. Luckily, debatably, as Susan's head and upper back were the farthest away from Teatime they were the first to hit the wall. Her arms being forced to bend and allow his chest to collide with her own. Her hands winding up closer to the center of his clavicle.

Her neck was still arched to the sky so when Jonathan's mouth came crashing forward it took the brunt of his lips. It was more of a bite as his teeth had set with his determination to bring them there. She brought her head back down quickly knocking her chin into his forehead.

With the wall behind her now she had no where to, but it also provided her some leverage of her own. If she could just get her hands in the right position.

The window of opportunity for that was closing by the second. Once he had her back flat against the bricks he'd pushed her hips flat against them too. His legs herding hers backward and stepping between them.

Soon they were sternum to sternum. The vicinity of his chest too close now, trapping her elbows with no room to extend her arms. The only thing keeping their faces separate was her hands, now fisted at his throat.

His throat.

She took hold and began to choke him. Her hands cumbersome and unwieldy in their dressings. Teatime gasped for air, her ministrations only intermittently cutting off his airway. He dragged the hand stationed between her back and the wall up to the nape of her neck.

Closing it around her throat, but not squeezing. He pulled her closer, as he pushed his chest up into her breasts, closing the gap between them.

Susan could barely keep her hands around his throat now. Her last solution being to bring her forearms up between them to cover her face. She heard him grunt quietly behind them, but couldn't discern if he was laughing or growling. His nose and mouth pressed to the seam where her arms touched.

So she felt the moment his face disappeared, and felt his torso lifted from her own.

The hands at her hip and the base of her skull braced before his head came crashing up under her elbows. Her forearms forced upward and his mouth pushed though between them.

Her lips took the brunt of his this time.

He kissed her. Was kissing her. His lips mouthing over her own. Head turned just so.

Susan kept her mouth tight. When she had crossed paths with him an hour or so ago she hadn't considered that he had any sexual intentions. Even with their last encounter on Hogswatch looming between them. She could hardly believe what transpired had transpired as it was transpiring.

Teatime was becoming more insistent. The hand behind her neck holding a knife just outside his sleeve. His mouth drawing over hers teeth just behind his lips. Nicking.

His head turned once or twice, left and right. His nose blocking her nostrils air supply in either direction. Her brain needed more oxygen.

So she excused her self when she opened her mouth knowing full well she was letting her enemy in at the gate.

She rationalized. She had already tasted him before. If memory served he tasted like outrage and shock with an aftertaste of rope. That first kiss had only lasted a few seconds, this was going on a minute.

Jonathan hadn't let up when she'd parted her lips for his.

That had been what he was after and he put up hell for it. But once Susan had given him her whole mouth it soon occurred to him they weren't kissing. Not really.

Mr. Te ah ti me wasn't a lover and hadn't had many. He'd made himself familiar with the ins and outs of the business of relations around the time the subject had come up in school. It was around the time all boys & girls discovered they had buttons, switches, and sockets on the Disc.

He was having an inordinately hard time finding his way around Susan's buttons and switches.

It had been a rather non sequitur in the Assassins Guild for him. Most other students had experience with relationships because most other students had relationships. Teatime was a (left a)loner. First he read what the textbooks had to say. Then for practical experience he'd consulted smaller scale models of the opposite sex. The kind the opposite sex usually carried around and played with. Before he finally had field experience. But it had been as confusing, thrilling and life altering for him as it had been for anyone. Unlike anyone else, once the novelty wore off he discovered passions paled in comparison to his true passion. Since then he hadn't bothered with it much.

Susan figured out what Teatime wanted when after his tongue couldn't spell it out for her his mouth did. Literally mumbling the words "Susan" and "Youvegatta" messily inside her mouth. She began kissing him back half in an effort to berate him for assuming he needed to instruct her on any matter.

She was a grown woman. She'd had relationships as any other woman had. Even as she was aware other women seemed to have more relationships.

Susan could kiss and once they'd shared a few he let up some pressure. After which they were almost pleasant. But she didn't dwell on that or its horrifying ramifications.

Staying practical the governess found that if she initiated every other kiss, he would give her air between them. If she couldn't bring her elbows down on his skull, she could rest them there. If she let him bring her hips against his, he'd allow some space between their chests. And once she managed to fall into rhythm with all that, he was almost gentle.

Aside from gentle she didn't dare think what she felt he was. She hadn't reconciled the radical shift in scenarios. She thought they were about to come to blows from the very second they'd met on the street. Expected that. And absolutely could not accept that they weren't right at this moment.

She was honestly writhing in a back alley with a man. A man who looked like an overgrown curly haired tot dressed for a funeral. It was ludicrous, unwanted, and she needed to put a suitable end to it- noting absently he was an acceptable shape and height for writhing.

Jonathan wasn't tied down to any absolutes. He absolutely hadn't intended to abduct Susan Sto Helit today. All the same he absolutely had, and now he had her in his arms up against a wall. These scenarios moved seamlessly for him. There was very little difference between an abduction and courting a woman in his eyes to begin with. Strictly speaking, by virtue of definition they were the same thing.

Either had him with a lady in his company. The first one in some time that had met with him, spoke with him, spent time with him(a holiday no less), and survived. (him)

He was pleased to find Susan had became a much better participant somewhere along the way. Earlier she'd seemed hopeless, which would have been dreadful. But once he'd found the right sequence she began to work spectacularly.

When he'd satisfactory displayed to her how kissing worked, he let her take the lead on that. He needed the concentration to contend with the rest of her. Her hips had begun trying to fit into his. That was particularly engaging, but then her chest had began trying to do the same. They needed to keep one half, top or bottom, still to stay upright. Susan didn't appear to be willing to cooperate or choose, so he'd helpfully lifted her hips over his own. Standing for both of them was taxing, but worth the effort. She seemed to appreciate it too, bringing her bosom up to his whenever he had to shift to keep them up.

Susan didn't seem to get as exasperated and shrill as most ladies in this position. His blue eye regarded his companion curiously. Her changes were quiet. For instance she was suddenly very pink. That was an odd color in contrast to her dark clothing and light hair. It occurred to him they were similarly colored and thus he might be similarly discolored. Which was instantly vexing.

If he did look as such, Susan didn't appear to notice. Her eyes had closed some time ago as her hands had taken up in his hair. She seemed to be considering something seriously.

From where his eye was positioned so close against her face he could just make out marks forming. Searching his brain for what they could be he remembered kiss bruises. Or hackeys. Or something like that. But he hadn't so much as licked her cheek.

It was too dark between them to see, so he pulled back, breaking their kiss. Susan looked as if she had just woken up.

She didn't understand why'd he'd stopped. And she assured herself she was just curious because of it, not disappointed. But she couldn't catch his eye to ask the question.

Teatime was looking off. He wasn't looking away from her either. Just off to the side of her face. A niggling suspicion started to prickle up her spine. By the time it reached the top, Jonathan had already taken his hand from behind her head and traced three fingers over her cheek.

He knew he was much too observant to have missed Susan having had those the whole time. Even with keyhole vision. It looked like someone had swiped a claw across her face. His fingers inspected the texture. Which was as smooth and soft as the rest of her.

Susan worked like no other woman he'd tried to operate. When he turned to smile back at her approvingly Teatime was genuinely mortified.

Ms. Sto Helit was half way through the wall.

What he held of her was getting smaller by the minute. Soon he was grasping at her hips to keep her from disappearing completely. Once her hips were gone Teatime fell forward.

Forehead smacking off the bricked surface.

* * *

Susan hit the ground inside of the building she'd previously been ravished against. She regarded both experiences woefully as she laid there composing herself. Several minutes later she stood, storming past the old man who hadn't so much as offered to help the phantom woman up after she phased in through his living room wall.

On the way home she picked up a ½ of gallon of milk and a few other assorted groceries lamenting the loss of her list.

TBC.


End file.
